--a ceaseless harmony of river
whistles, ferry-boats signalling on the East River, ferry-boats on
the North River, perhaps some mellow, resonant blast from the bay,
where an ocean liner was heading for the Narrows. Always the
street's stillness held that singing murmur, vibrant with deep
undertones from dock and river and the outer sea.

Strange spicy odours, too, sometimes floated inland from the sugar
wharves, miles away under the Heights, to mingle with the scent of
lilac and iris in quiet, sunny backyards where whitewashed fences
reflected the mid-day glare, and cats dozed in strategical
positions on grape trellis and tin roofs of extensions, prepared
for war or peace, as are all cats always, at all times.

"Celia!"

Celia Craig looked up tranquilly.

"Has anybody darned Paige's stockings?"

"No, she hasn't, Honey-bell. Paige and Marye must keep their
stockings da'ned. I never could do anything fo' myse'f, and I
won't have my daughters brought up he'pless."

Ailsa glanced humorously across at her sister-in-law.

"You sweet thing," she said, "you can do anything, and you know it!"

"But I don't like to do anything any mo' than I did befo' I had
to," laughed Celia Craig; and suddenly checked her mirth, listening
with her pretty close-set ears.

"That is the do'-bell," she remarked, "and I am not dressed."

"It's almost too early for anybody to call," said Ailsa tranquilly.

But she was wrong, and when, a moment later, the servant came to
announce Mr. Berkley, Ailsa regarded her sister-in-law in pink
consternation.

"I did _not_ ask him," she said. "We scarcely exchanged a dozen
words. He merely said he'd like to call--on you--and now he's done
it, Celia!"

Mrs. Craig calmly instructed the servant to say that they were at
home, and the servant withdrew.

"Do you approve his coming--this way--without anybody inviting
him?" asked Ailsa uneasily.

"Of co'se, Honey-bell. He is a Berkley. He should have paid his
respects to us long ago."

"It was for him to mention the relationship when I met him. He did
not speak of it, Celia."

"No, it was fo' you to speak of it first," said Celia Craig gently.
"But you did not know that."

"Why?"

"There are reasons, Honey-bud."

"What reasons?"

"They are not yo' business, dear," said her sister-in-law quietly.

Ailsa had already risen to examine herself in the mirror. Now she
looked back over her shoulder and down into Celia's pretty
eyes--eye