he magician often smiled. It seemed to him that
the good in things was beginning to show very plainly. The atmosphere of
Friendship was clearing; the trouble which had first shown itself when
Patterson Whittredge left his home had begun to lift with the coming of
his daughter. Not that Rosalind had anything to do with it; it was only
one of those bits of poetical justice that go to make life interesting.

An onlooker might have observed that he smiled oftener when engaged on the
spinet than at other times; but if the magician had made any more
discoveries in connection with it, he kept them to himself.

Now that the days were growing chill, a cheerful fire blazed on his
hearth, before which Crisscross and Curly Q. dozed; he had found time to
renew the motto over the chimney-piece, and the window-shelf was full of
plants. The Arden Foresters appeared to regard the place as a club-room
for their special benefit, and dropped in at all hours. The magician liked
to have them there. As he sandpapered and oiled and polished, it was
pleasant to glance in, now and then, at the open door, at a row of bright
faces in the chimney-corner.

Once in a while Celia joined them for a few minutes. She wanted to know
about the purchaser of the spinet, but Morgan seemed inclined to evade her
questions. He did not deny that there was a purchaser, but the name had
apparently escaped him.

Belle suggested that it might be the same mysterious individual who had
bought the house, and Morgan accepted this as a happy solution when it was
mentioned to him.

The cabinet-maker was a very queer person at times.

Celia sat in one corner of the high-backed settle alone this afternoon.
Belle, who had come in with the news of the arrival of Rosalind's father
the evening before, had just gone, and Celia, who had spent a busy
morning, was reflecting that it was too late to begin a new task, and that
she might as well allow herself to rest. Of late she hid taken life more
quietly.

"Morgan seems to have gone out. May I come in?" It was Allan Whittredge
who spoke, standing in the door.

"He was there a moment ago," Celia answered, rising.

"May I wait for him here? You agreed we were not to be enemies; can't we
go a step farther, and be friends?"

Celia found no reply to this, but she sat dawn again.

Allan took the arm-chair and faced her. "I seem to be always forcing
myself on you, but I'll promise you this is the last time," he said.

Still C