aring their table during his visit. She wondered
whether Thayor was paying her back for the many she had given without
consulting him.

"Who do you think is coming?" exclaimed Margaret, who had run over
to Holcomb's cabin to tell him the news that afternoon; "nice Jack
Randall!" she cried before he could even begin to think.

Holcomb opened his eyes in surprise.

"Father said you had met him at The Players," added Margaret.

"Met him--why I've known Mr. Randall for years! It seems mighty good
to think I'm going to see the dear fellow again. Well, that _is_ good
news--dear old Jack!"

They were standing in the open doorway of the cabin. Holcomb thought
he had never seen her look prettier than she did this sunny morning
without her hat--dressed as she was in a simple frock of some soft
white fabric cut low about her plump brown throat.

"May I come inside," she asked timidly, as she peeped into the new
interior.

"Why, certainly. Come in and sit down; you are really the only visitor
I've had except your father--sit down--won't you?" He drew a chair up
to his freshly scrubbed deal table.

Margaret looked up into his eyes--half seriously for a moment, as she
stood by the proffered chair.

"You are coming to dine with us while he's here," she said in her
frank way. "Father says you must."

Billy's embarrassment was evident. "That's really kind of him," he
replied, "but don't you think I'd better wait until--"

"There--you're going to refuse; I was half afraid you would. But
you will come--won't you? Please, Mr. Holcomb!" She seated herself
opposite him, resting her adorable little chin in her hands, her eyes
again looking into his own.

"I mean I'd rather your mother had asked me," he said, after a
moment's hesitation. "I'm afraid Mrs. Thayor would be better pleased
if I did not come, much as I'd like to."

The brown eyes were lowered and the corners of the young mouth
quivered; she lifted her head and he saw the eyes were dim with two
big tears.

"You'll come, won't you?" she faltered, trying hard to smile. He
started to rise, looking helplessly about him as a man who casts about
him for a remedy in an emergency.

"There, I shouldn't have said what I did," he explained as she brushed
away the tears. "I'm sorry--I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You haven't hurt me," she said; "you couldn't."

There was an awkward pause during which she buried her face in her
dimpled brown hands. Holcomb breathed heavily.