's tragic
eyes. And there as more than that. All day he had noticed how inevitably
the conversation turned to the young surgeon. Did they start with
Reginald, with the condition of the morning-glory vines, with the
proposition of taking up the quaint paving-stones and macadamizing the
Street, they ended with the younger Wilson.

Sidney's active young brain, turned inward for the first time in her
life, was still on herself.

"Mother is plaintively resigned--and Aunt Harriet has been a trump.
She's going to keep her room. It's really up to you."

"To me?"

"To your staying on. Mother trusts you absolutely. I hope you noticed
that you got one of the apostle spoons with the custard she sent up
to you the other night. And she didn't object to this trip to-day. Of
course, as she said herself, it isn't as if you were young, or at all
wild."

In spite of himself, K. was rather startled. He felt old enough, God
knew, but he had always thought of it as an age of the spirit. How old
did this child think he was?

"I have promised to stay on, in the capacity of watch-dog,
burglar-alarm, and occasional recipient of an apostle spoon in a dish of
custard. Lightning-conductor, too--your mother says she isn't afraid of
storms if there is a man in the house. I'll stay, of course."

The thought of his age weighed on him. He rose to his feet and threw
back his fine shoulders.

"Aunt Harriet and your mother and Christine and her husband-to-be,
whatever his name is--we'll be a happy family. But, I warn you, if I
ever hear of Christine's husband getting an apostle spoon--"

She smiled up at him. "You are looking very grand to-day. But you have
grass stains on your white trousers. Perhaps Katie can take them out."

Quite suddenly K. felt that she thought him too old for such frivolity
of dress. It put him on his mettle.

"How old do you think I am, Miss Sidney?"

She considered, giving him, after her kindly way, the benefit of the
doubt.

"Not over forty, I'm sure."

"I'm almost thirty. It is middle age, of course, but it is not
senility."

She was genuinely surprised, almost disturbed.

"Perhaps we'd better not tell mother," she said. "You don't mind being
thought older?"

"Not at all."

Clearly the subject of his years did not interest her vitally, for she
harked back to the grass stains.

"I'm afraid you're not saving, as you promised. Those are new clothes,
aren't they?"

"No, indeed. Bought years ago in Englan