ample
shrubberies. A gravelled path leads from the gate to the porch,
or sun-room, where are broad steps. Upon the lawn are a white
garden bench, a table, and a great green-and-white-striped sun
umbrella, with several white garden chairs.

Autumn has come, and the foliage is beginning to turn; but the
scene is warm and sunlit.

After a moment a young housemaid brings out a tray with a
chocolate pot, wafers, and one cup and saucer and a lace-edged
napkin. She places the tray on the table, moves a chair to it,
looks at the tray thoughtfully, turns, starts toward the
house--when_ GIBSON _comes out. He wears a travelling suit and
is bareheaded._

ELLA: The cook thought you might like a cup of chocolate after a long
trip like that--just getting off the train and all, Mr. Gibson.

GIBSON: Thank you, Ella, I should.

ELLA: I'll bring your mail right out.

[_She goes into the house and returns with a packet of
letters._]

GIBSON: Thanks, Ella!

ELLA: Everything is there that's come since you sent the telegram not to
forward any more.

GIBSON: It's pleasant to find the house and everything just as I left
it.

ELLA: My, Mr. Gibson, we pretty near thought you wasn't never coming
back. Those June roses in that bed round yonder lasted pretty near up
into August this year, Mr. Gibson. For that matter it's such mild
weather even yet some say we won't have any fall till Thanksgiving.

GIBSON: Yes, it's extraordinary.

ELLA: Shall I leave the tray?

GIBSON: No; you can take it. [_She moves to do so._] Wait a minute.
Here's a letter from John Riley, up at the factory. Don't I remember his
son Tom coming here to see you quite a good deal?

ELLA: Yes, sir; Tom's one of the factory truckmen like his father. He
still comes to see me quite a good deal, sir. There isn't anything about
that in the letter, is there, sir? [_She knows there isn't._]

GIBSON [_absently_]: No, no! [_With faint irony._] He only wants to know
about where to get a stock of truck parts that had been ordered before I
broke connections with the factory. He thinks four months is a long time
for them to be on the way and doesn't know where to write.

ELLA: He's a terrible active man, Mr. Riley. Always pushing.

GIBSON: So Tom comes round more than ever, does he?

ELLA [_coyly_]: He does, sir!

GIBSON: I'm not going to lose you, am I, Ella?

ELLA: Well, sir, up to the time of tha