n't ask us
to come to meetin' nor hint at prayin' with the family or anything, yet
they looked for all the while like two Methodist parsons, young ones. A
curate is a kind of new-hatched rector, isn't he?"

"Not exactly," I answered. "He is only partially hatched. But, whatever
you do, don't tell them they look like Methodists; they wouldn't
consider it a compliment."

Hephzy was a Methodist herself and she resented the slur. "Well, I guess
a Methodist is as good as an Episcopalian," she declared. "And they
don't ACT like Methodists. Why, one of 'em smoked a pipe. Just imagine
Mr. Partridge smokin' a pipe!"

Mr. Judson and I played eighteen holes of golf together. He played a
little worse than I did and I felt better. The honor of Bayport's golf
had been partially vindicated.

While all this was going on our patient remained, for the greater part
of the time, in her room. She was improving steadily. Doctor Bayliss,
whom I had asked to attend her, declared, as his London associates had
done, that all she needed was rest, quiet and the good air and food
which she was certain to get in Mayberry. He, too, like the physician at
Bancroft's, seemed impressed by her appearance and manner. And he also
asked similar embarrassing questions.

"Delightful young lady, Miss Morley," he observed. "One of our English
girls, Knowles. She informs me that she IS English."

"Partly English," I could not help saying. "Her mother was an American."

"Oh, indeed! You know she didn't tell me that, now did she."

"Perhaps not."

"No, by Jove, she didn't. But she has lived all her life in England?"

"Yes--in England and France."

"Your niece, I think you said."

I had said it, unfortunately, and it could not be unsaid now without
many explanations. So I nodded.

"She doesn't--er--behave like an American. She hasn't the American
manner, I mean to say. Now Miss Cahoon has--er--she has--"

"Miss Cahoon's manner is American. So is mine; we ARE Americans, you
see."

"Yes, yes, of course," hastily. "When are you and I to have the nine
holes you promised, Knowles?"

One fine afternoon the invalid came downstairs. The "between-maid" had
arranged chairs and the table on the lawn. We were to have tea there; we
had tea every day, of course--were getting quite accustomed to it.

Frances--I may as well begin calling her that--looked in better health
then than at any time since our meeting. She was becomingly, although
simply gowned, and t