le contradictions of her nature that she would not.

When she came back to the croquet-ground, leading the little girl by the
hand, she found Mrs. Maynard no longer alone and no longer sad. She
was chatting and laughing with a slim young fellow, whose gay blue eyes
looked out of a sunburnt face, and whose straw hat, carried in his hand,
exposed a closely shaven head. He wore a suit of gray flannel, and Mrs.
Maynard explained that he was camping on the beach at Birkman's Cove,
and had come over in the steamer with her when she returned from Europe.
She introduced him as Mr. Libby, and said, "Oh, Bella, you dirty little
thing!"

Mr. Libby bowed anxiously to Grace, and turned for refuge to the little
girl. "Hello, Bella!" "Hello!" said the child. "Remember me?" The child
put her left hand on that of Grace holding her right, and prettily
pressed her head against the girl's arm in bashful silence. Grace
said some coldly civil words to the young man: without looking at Mrs.
Maynard, and passed on into the house.

"You don't mean that's your doctor?" he scarcely more than whispered.

"Yes, I do," answered Mrs. Maynard. "Is n't she too lovely? And she's
just as good! She used to stand up at school for me, when all the girls
were down on me because I was Western. And when I came East, this
time, I just went right straight to her house. I knew she could tell
me exactly what to do. And that's the reason I'm here. I shall always
recommend this air to anybody with lung difficulties. It's the greatest
thing! I'm almost another person. Oh, you need n't look after her, Mr.
Libby! There's nothing flirtatious about Grace," said Mrs. Maynard.

The young man recovered himself from his absentminded stare in the
direction Grace had taken, with a frank laugh. "So much the better for a
fellow, I should say!"

Grace handed the little girl over to her nurse, and went to her own
room, where she found her mother waiting to go down to tea.

"Where is Mrs. Maynard?" asked Mrs. Breen.

"Out on the croquet-ground," answered the daughter.

"I should think it would be damp," suggested Mrs. Green.

"She will come in when the tea-bell rings. She wouldn't come in now, if
I told her."

"Well," said the elder lady, "for a person who lets her doctor pay her
board, I think 'she's very independent."

"I wish you would n't speak of that, mother," said the girl.

"I can't help it, Grace. It's ridiculous,--that's what it is; it's
ridiculous."

"I