, of the prune picking, their trouble with help, the
rather bootless effort of a group in San Jose to form a Growers'
Association; then of that city where lay their more vital interests.

Goodyear had just been to San Francisco on a flying trip; he brought
back fresh gossip: The Bohemian Club had the "Jinks" in rehearsal; a
new-discovered poet had written the book; it was to be (so the Sire
declared) the greatest in club history.

"As usual," smiled Judge Tiffany.

They were saying about the Pacific Union Club that the Southern
Pacific had raised its rates to Southern points. One might have sensed
that shadow which hangs always over commercial California in the
sombreness which froze the group at this news. From five minutes of
pessimistic discussion, Goodyear led them by a scattered fire of
personalities. Billy Darnton was going to give a bull's head breakfast
at San Jacinto. Al Hemphill was coming to it all the way from New
York. Charlie Bates had pulled out for the new gold diggings in the
Mojave desert, rich again in anticipation, although he had to leave
San Francisco secretly to escape the process servers.

"Tea, gentlemen!" called Mrs. Tiffany, from her nasturtium bower in
the shadow of the great oak.

"Just when we are getting comfortable," her husband growled
pleasantly; and he made no move to rise. The women sat at ease about
the tea-table. Their talk, beginning with the marvelous Ruggles
babies, had run lightly past clothes and help, and fallen into the
hands of Mrs. Goodyear. She, too, was full of San Francisco. Apart,
under the grape arbor, Teresa Morse and her brother were snaring
lizards--playing like two well-behaved babies miraculously grown
tall.

"There's Eleanor," suddenly spoke Teresa. At the word, she dropped
her lizard, started forward; and stopped as she came out into full
view of the road.

Eleanor, in fresh white, bareheaded under her parasol, was approaching
between two young men. The slighter of the two men moved a little
apart; the heavier, in whom Mrs. Tiffany recognized with some
apprehension the new protege, Mr. Bertram Chester, walked very close
up. He was peering under the parasol, which Eleanor dropped in his
direction from time to time without visibly effecting his removal. It
seemed from his wide gestures, from the smile which became apparent as
he drew nearer, that he was talking ardently.

In the other man, Mrs. Tiffany recognized that Mr. Heath who had the
boy friendshi