some of the
embroidered white doilies of Juliet's wedding linen, was a simple lunch of
a character which appealed to the guest's critical appetite in a way which
made her draw a long breath of satisfaction.

"You certainly do have a trick of serving things to make them taste better
than other people's," she acknowledged, glancing from the little platter
of broiled chicken with its bit of parsley to the crisp fruit salad made
up of she knew not what, but presenting an appetising appearance--then
regarding fondly a dish of spinach, pleasingly flanked by thin slices of
boiled egg.

"It's really too hot to eat anything very solid," agreed Juliet with
guile. "Rachel and I have a way of planning our lunches a day or two
ahead, so that the leftovers we use up are not yesterday's but the day
before's, and we remember with surprise how good the original dish was far
back in the past. I wish Anthony could have his midday meal at
home--though perhaps if he did the dinners wouldn't strike him so happily.
Don't you think it's great fun to see a big, hearty man sit down at a
table and look at it with an expression of adoration? Women may deride the
fact as they will, but a healthy body does demand good things to eat, and
shouldn't be blamed for liking them."

"Wayne hasn't much appetite," said Judith, eating away with relish. "He
dislikes the people at our table--sometimes I think that's why he bolts
his food and gets off in such a hurry. By the way, Juliet, are you and
Tony coming in to the Reardons' to-night? Of course you are."

"I suppose we must," admitted Juliet with reluctance. "We have refused a
good many things since we've been here, but I did promise Mrs. Reardon we
would try to come to-night."

The little repast over, Judith offered, with well simulated warmth, to
help her friend with the after work. But Juliet would have none of her.
She sent her guest out into a hammock under the trees, and despatched the
business of putting the little kitchen to rights with the celerity of one
who means to have done with it.

In the middle of the June afternoon Judith awoke from a nap in the hammock
to find her hostess standing laughing beside her, fresh in a thin gown of
flowered dimity.

"Well," yawned Judith, heavily, "I must have gone off to sleep. I was
tired--I am tireder. This is a fatiguing sort of weather--don't you think
so? But you don't look it. And after all that work I found you in! Why
aren't you used up? It _kill