e lonely; it was the most populous and entertaining place
in all the world. I much preferred the wood to anything in the city.
I love it now, too; but it seems the essence of solitude to me."

"That is because you have been where the passions and restlessness of
men have centered. One is never the same after that."

"Strangely enough, the place now belongs to me," went on Agatha.
"Parson Thayer, the former owner and resident, was my mother's guardian
and friend, and left the place to me for her sake."

"Ah, that is well!" cried Melanie. "It will be your castle of retreat,
your Sans-Souci, for all your life, I envy you! It is charming.
Pastor--Parson, do you say?--Parson Thayer was a man of judgment."

"Yes, and a man of strange and dominating personality, in his way.
Everything about the house speaks of him and his tastes. Even Danny
here follows me, I really believe, because I am beginning to appreciate
his former master."

Agatha stooped and patted the dog's head. Youth and health, helped by
the sympathy of a friend, were working wonders in Agatha. She beamed
with happiness.

"Come into the house," she begged Melanie, "and look at some of his
books with me. But first we'll find Sallie and get luncheon, and
perhaps Mr. Van Camp will appear by that time. Poor man, he was quite
worn out. Then you shall see Parson Thayer's books and flowers, if you
will."

They strolled over the velvet lawn toward the front of the house, where
the door and the long windows stood open. Down by the road, and close
to the lilac bushes that flanked the gateway, stood a large
silver-white automobile--evidently Miss Reynier's conveyance. The
driver of the machine had disappeared.

"I mustn't trespass on your kindness for luncheon to-day, thank you,"
Melanie was saying; "but I'll come again soon, if I may." Meantime she
was moving slowly down the walk. But Agatha would not have it so. She
clung to this woman friend with an unwonted eagerness, begging her to
stay.

"We are quite alone, and we have been so miserable over Mr. Hambleton's
illness," she pleaded quite illogically. "Do stay and cheer us up!"

And so Melanie was persuaded; easily, too, except for her compunctions
about abusing the hospitality of a household whose first care must
necessarily be for the sick.

"I want to stay," she said frankly. "The house breathes the very air
of restfulness itself; and I haven't seen the garden at all!" She
walked back ov