some more off the Peyton piece of cloth. An invalid
girl lying round on couches for Fiddle to wait on--another Lucy,
probably, only worse, because she's ill. Well, I'm not going to be any
more cordial than the law calls for. I'll have to bring 'em out in a
carriage, I suppose. She'll be too limp for the trolley."

He reached the station barely in time to engage a carriage before the
train came in. He took up his position inside the gates through which
all passengers must pass from the train-shed into the great station.

"Looking for somebody?" asked a voice at his elbow.

He glanced quickly down at one of his old schoolmates, Carolyn Houghton.
"Yes, guests of the Churchills," he answered, his gaze instantly
returning to the throng pouring toward him from the train. "Help me,
will you? I don't know them from Adam. It's a man and his invalid
sister, old friends of Andy's."

"There they are," said Carolyn, promptly, indicating an approaching
pair.

Jeff laughed. "The sister isn't quite so antique as that," he objected,
as a little woman of fifty wavered past on the arm of a stout gentleman.

"You said 'old' friends," retorted Carolyn. "Look, Jeff, isn't that she?
The sister's being wheeled in a chair by a porter, the brother's walking
beside her. They _look_ like Doctor Churchill's friends, Jeff."

"Think you can tell Andy's friends by their uniform?"

"You can tell anybody's intimate friends in a crowd--I mean the same
kind of people look alike," asserted Carolyn, with emphasis. "These are
the ones, I'm sure. I'll just watch while you greet them and then I'll
slip off. I'm taking this next train. What a sweet face that girl has,
but how delicate--like a little flower. She's a dear, I'm sure. The
brother looks nice, too. They're the ones, I know. See, the brother's
looking hard at us all inside the gates."

"Here goes, then. Good-by!" Jeff turned away to the task of making
himself known to the strangers. But he was forced to admit that if
Charlotte must meet another onslaught of visitors, these certainly did
look attractive.

"Yes, I'm Thorne Lee," the young man answered, with a straight look into
Jeff's eyes and a grasp of the outstretched hand as Jeff introduced
himself. He motioned the porter to wheel the chair out of the pressing
crowd.

Jeff explained about the delayed telegram. Mr. Lee presented him to the
young girl in the chair, and Jeff looked down into a pair of hazel eyes
which instantly claimed his