Mrs. Ivy sighed, then turned to join Mr. Gooch who had just come out on the porch.

"Has it ever occurred to you," she said as if enunciating a hitherto unuttered truth, "how reluctant youth is to learn of age? This dear little widow that the good Doctor left to our care, is making some grave mistakes."

"I think she does fairly well," said Mr. Gooch, settling himself comfortably; "the beef is not always good, but the fowls and the vegetables are ex-excellent."

Mr. Gooch spoke with unusual warmth. Myrtella's cooking, together with Miss Lady's graciousness, and the sharp proprietorship that Hattie had assumed over him, were working a miracle. Even now as the sounds of music and laughter came forth from the living-room, he paused to listen. He was surprised to find that "Molly Darlings," and "Nellie Grays," and other musical girls he'd left behind him, still haunted the dim corridors of his argumentative mind, and gave him little thrills of pleasure.

"Ah," purred Mrs. Ivy, continuing the conversation. "Far be it from me to criticize her. It is against my principles to entertain a critical attitude toward any one. Besides, I quite adore the dear child. I consider her a precious gift to a grateful world. But you must acknowledge, Mr. Gooch, that with all her sweetness, she doesn't always allow herself to be guided."

"Good Lord, no," said Mr. Gooch testily.

"She'll look you straight in the eye and smile, while you are advising her, then go straight off and do as she pleases. This matter of the Doctor's will, for instance. I spent two days arguing with her about the futility of publishing two dozen volumes that nobody will ever read."

"But that was his dying request, Mr. Gooch. Only one who has loved and lost can know the nature of that obligation." Mr. Gooch sniffed impatiently. Conjugal felicity was a subject that irritated him in every fiber.

"Then her charities," he went on crustily; "she's got no money to be throwing away, yet every family on Billy-goat Hill comes to her when it gets into trouble."

"Yes, and she doesn't hesitate to sit down in those dreadful hovels, and take those unclean babies in her arms. It has made me frightfully nervous since we came here. Gerald is so sensitive to germs."

"What is this latest tomfoolery about a kindergarten?"

"Why, she has actually gotten Mrs. Bartrum and Mrs. Horton, and some of those other society women, to rent the hall over the grocery where the Cant-Pass-It Saloon used to be. They are going to open a kindergarten and Margery Sequin is coming home from Europe to take charge of it. I am afraid the project is built upon the sands. There is not a church member on the board!"

"Well, they needn't come to me for a contribution," said Mr. Gooch. "I don't believe in kindergartens."

While this conversation was taking place, quite a different one was in progress, on the up-stairs side porch which had been converted into a summer bedroom for Miss Lady and Bertie.

"Do you 'spose," Bert was saying sleepily, "that God 'ud give me a horn 'stead of a harp when I get to heaven, if I ask him to?"

"I know He will, Bert. Take off your other shoe."

"Why didn't He give Chick something to say?"

"He did, but Chick's throat won't let the words come through. Step out of your clothes now, hurry up, Buddikin!"

But Bert's feet were firmly planted, and his sleepy eyes fixed in philosophic musings:

"If He had all kinds of throats I don't see why He didn't give Chick a good one."

This required elucidation, and Miss Lady attempted to make the matter clear while extricating the small boy from his clothes.

"Ain't you going to tell me a story?"

"Not to-night, Bert. I'm so tired; all the stories have run out."

Bert crawled into his bed silently, and lay watching the shadows in the big tree outside.

"I wish Cousin Don was here," he sighed. "He never does run out of stories. When is he coming back?"

"I don't know, dear. Shut your eyes now, and go to sleep."

He shut his eyes obediently, but continued the conversation drowsily,

"He knows all about whales and tigers, and big ships and elephants. He's--been--clear--around--the--earth--"

But the Sandman had conquered, and Miss Lady, having slipped on a dressing-gown and loosened her hair, tiptoed to the far end of the porch and sitting on the railing gazed fixedly out into the gathering darkness. For half an hour the dim enchantments of twilight had been abroad, transforming hill and valley, and merging heaven and earth in a tender, elusive atmosphere of dreams. But her absorbed, white face, and tense hands locked about her knees, showed that she was not concerned with the beauty of the evening.

Mrs. Ivy's words had kindled a bonfire, by the light of which recent events leapt into view. Connie had been secretive, not only about her letters but about her engagements as well. She was growing daily more indifferent to Gerald Ivy, and developing a taste for reading that had been the cause of much surmising and teasing on the part of the household.

Twice during the summer Donald had come to Thornwood, and on both occasions Miss Lady had been seized with an unreasoning fear, not only of him, but of herself. She had received him under the depressing chaperonage of Mr. Gooch and Mrs. Ivy, and she remembered now how Connie had taken possession of him on both occasions. But even if Connie's transitory affections were temporarily engaged, surely Donald was not encouraging her!

A low whistle from the path below made her look down. It was Connie and she was stepping very cautiously as if trying to elude somebody.

"Miss Lady!" she called softly. "Aren't you coming down again?"

"No, I'm going to bed."

"Don't go yet. I'm coming up. I want to tell you something."

A moment later Connie opened the door, and closed it carefully behind her.

"Is Bertie asleep?"

"Yes."

"It's all over!" she announced tragically. "Gerald and I have had an awful quarrel, and he swears he'll never live to see another dawn."

"Of course he won't, I doubt if he has ever seen one. What's his trouble?"

"Everything! He wants me to sit at his feet every hour in the day and adore him, and how can I adore a man who is afraid of a bumblebee, and can't drive, and sleeps with an umbrella over his head to shut out the light? I just simply can't stand him another minute!"

"But, Connie, you were so crazy about him, you wouldn't listen to a word against him."

"I know it. I've been a perfect little idiot." Connie was sobbing now on Miss Lady's shoulder. "The first time I saw him he'd just gotten home from Europe. He was playing at a concert. Everybody said he was a genius, and his eyes were so wonderful, and I had never seen anybody like him. The more he snubbed me the crazier I got about him. It wasn't until Cousin Don came back that I saw him as he really is."

Miss Lady patted the heaving shoulders, but said nothing.

"And the very minute," Connie continued tempestuously, "that I began to feel differently, Gerald began to like me. He has worked himself up to a terrible pitch, and doesn't want me out of his sight for a minute. I feel as if I'd been living on chocolate creams for three months!"

"Connie!" Miss Lady took the tear-stained face between her hands. "I'm glad it isn't Gerald. I'm glad from the bottom of my heart, but are you sure it isn't somebody else?"

Connie's blue eyes, never very steadfast, shifted uneasily, and Miss Lady went on earnestly:

"Are you quite sure you aren't doing just what you did before, getting infatuated, and making yourself miserable over some one who doesn't care for you?"

"But he does!" burst out Connie indignantly; "he cares for me more than for anybody in the world!"

"How do you know?"

"He's told me so! There--I oughtn't to have told! I swore I wouldn't until after the trial. But you won't breathe it, Miss Lady? Promise you won't even ask me to tell you anything more?"

Miss Lady looked at her strangely.

"I know everybody is going to disapprove," Connie went on recklessly, "and say horrid things about him. But I don't care if you will just stand by me. And you will, won't you?"

Twice Miss Lady tried to speak before the words would come, then:

"Yes," she whispered almost breathlessly, "yes, I promise to stand by you,--and by him."