good it was."

It was easy for Dick to manufacture errands like these. Dr. Howe began to
think young Forsythe spent the greater part of his time at the rectory.
But this did not trouble him at all; in fact it was a satisfaction that
this lively young man liked the rectory so much. Dr. Howe did not go very
far into the future in his thoughts; he was distinctly flattered in the
present. Of course, if anything came of it (for the rector was not
entirely unworldly), why, it would be all for the best. So he was quite
patient if Lois was not on hand to hunt up a book for him or to fetch
his slippers, and he fell into the habit of spending much time in Mr.
Denner's office, looking over the "Field" and talking of their next
hunting trip. He was not even irritated when, one morning, wishing to
read a letter to his daughter, he had gone all over the house looking
for her, and then had caught a glimpse of her through the trees, down in
the sunny garden, with Dick Forsythe. "I'll just let that letter wait,"
he said, and went and stretched himself comfortably on the slippery,
leather-covered sofa in the shaded library, with a paper in his hand and
a satisfied smile on his lips.

The garden was ablaze with color, and full of all sorts of delicious
scents and sounds. The gay old-fashioned flowers poured a flood of
blossoms through all the borders: hollyhocks stood like rockets against
the sky; sweet-peas and scarlet runners scrambled over the box hedges and
about the rose-bushes; mallows and sweet-williams, asters and zinias and
phlox, crowded close together with a riotous richness of tint; scarlet
and yellow nasturtiums streamed over the ground like molten sunshine;
and, sparkling and glinting through the air, butterflies chased up and
down like blossoms that had escaped from their stems.

Lois had come out to pick some flowers for the numerous vases and bowls
which it was her delight to keep filled all summer long. She was
bareheaded, and the wind had rumpled the curls around her forehead; the
front of her light blue dress--she wore light blue in a manner which
might have been called daring had it implied the slightest thought--was
caught up to hold her lapful of flowers; a sheaf of roses rested on her
shoulder, and some feathery vines trailed almost to the ground, while in
her left hand, their stems taller than her own head, were two stately
sunflowers, which were to brighten the hall.

Mr. Forsythe caught sight of her as he cl