"
Jack Everett flushed. He was a splendid looking fellow, big and brown,
with light hair of almost the same coppery tones as his sister's, and
although but eighteen was nearly six feet tall. It was his last year at
the Male High School of which his father was President, and already he
had passed with high honors his entrance examinations for Dartmouth
College.
"Oh, I say, Meg, don't pile it on," he protested. "You are handsome
enough all right, and it was only on your own account that I was wishing
you could run things better."
Meg had evidently given up the idea of her engagement by this time, for
she had seated herself in a big chair with her small brother on her lap
and was rocking him slowly back and forth, his head resting on her
shoulder.
"You are right, Jack, I am not offended," she answered. "I know I am a
poor manager, but somehow I don't just take to housekeeping and
mothering naturally. Men always think girls know such things by
instinct. They don't understand that we have to learn them just as boys
learn bookkeeping or office work and I have never had any one to teach
me."
"The late Miss Everett," a new voice called unexpectedly, apparently
coming from about midway up the front steps. "Meg, may I come on
upstairs, the front door was half open and I knew full well that you
would never keep your promise to me unless I came and got you.
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