sts. (We call her the Gay Lady because of her
flower-bright face, her trick of smiling when other people frown, and
because of a certain soft sparkle and glow about her whole personality,
as indescribable as it is captivating). The Gay Lady had gone indoors to
dress for the evening, and the Philosopher had not returned from the
long daily tramp by which he keeps himself in trim. The Lad was on the
porch mending some fishing-tackle--my Lad, with the clear young eyes
which see things.

Althea gave the Skeptic a glance, the Lad a smile, and me a hearty
embrace. I had never seen her before, and her visit had been brought
about by a request from her mother, an old friend, who was anxious to
have her daughter spend a pleasant vacation in the absence of most of
the girl's family.

It was impossible not to like my new guest at once. She was a healthy,
hearty, blooming sort of girl, good to look at, pleasant company to have
about, and, as I soon learned, sweet-tempered to a degree which it
seemed nothing could upset. She followed me upstairs, talking brightly
all the way, and made her entrance into the white room as a pink
hollyhock might drop unconcernedly into a pan of milk.

"What a lovely, cool-looking room!" she cried, and dropped her coat
and umbrella upon the bed.

The Lad, following with her handbag, stopped to look at his tennis shoes
before he set foot upon the white rug, and dusted off the bag with a
somewhat grimy handkerchief before he stood it on the white-tiled
hearth. The Lad knows how I feel about the room, and though he races
into his own with muddy feet, stands in awe of the place where only
girls are made at home.

* * * * *

I have but two maid-servants, both of whom must be busy in kitchen and
dining-room when the house is full of guests. So I always make the
rounds of the bedrooms in the evening, to see to lights and water, and
to turn down the coverings on the beds. The Skeptic's room needed only a
touch here and there to put it in order for the night. The Philosopher's
needed none. The Gay Lady had left her pretty, rose-hung quarters
looking as if a lady lived in them, and had but dropped a dainty
reminder of herself here and there to give them character--an
embroidered dressing-case on the bureau, an attractive travelling
work-box on the table by her bed, a photograph, a lace-bordered
handkerchief, a gossamer scarf on a chair-back ready for use if she
should need i