n John Rayburn got you into something of a scrape when he sent you
that copper inscription over your fireplace, didn't he? He didn't
realise that the 'ornaments' it brought you in November would have to be
conveyed away by force in June. It was the only way to give you an
interval when you should, for the first time in the history of your
married life, have no guests at all."

Charlotte and Andrew were staring at him in amazement.

"Uncle Ray?" cried Charlotte, under her breath. "Was he the one? Did you
know it all the time, Doctor Forester?"

"Yes, I knew it all the time" he owned. "In fact, Captain Rayburn wrote
to me after he had heard of the fireplace. You sent him a photograph of
it, didn't you?"

"So we did," Doctor Churchill answered. "We took it the day the
fireplace was finished, I'd forgotten it completely, but I remember now.
We thought he'd be interested, because something he once said about the
ideal fireplace had put the idea into our heads of collecting the stones
ourselves. So he wrote all the way from Denmark to have that made?"

"He had it made there, and wrote me for the measurements. He expressed
it to me, and I repacked it and sent it to you," chuckled Doctor
Forester. "He was determined to puzzle you completely."

"He certainly succeeded. Did he give you leave to tell at this
particular date?"

"It was left to my discretion after the first six months, provided you
had had any guests. I thought the time was ripe, and you'd earned your
diploma. All that worries me is that you may find a fresh instalment of
ornaments when you get back. The motto strikes me as a sort of uncanny
provider of them." The others laughed. Charlotte glanced across at
Evelyn.

"It has paid," she said softly. Andy nodded. "It certainly has. All the
thanks we shall need will be in Thorne Lee's letter, after he has seen
his little sister."

"I rather think it's paid with the others, too," Doctor Forester added.
"Anyhow, you've certainly done your part."

Out on the back of the train Charlotte found Lucy at her elbow. She
looked into the girl's face, and discovered the blue eyes to be full of
tears. "Why, Lu, dear!" she said, softly.

"Mrs. Churchill"--Lucy was almost crying--"I just can't bear to think
it's the last day! I wish--oh, I wish--I lived with you!"

"Do you, dear? That's very pleasant," and Charlotte drew her close,
feeling more warmth toward Lucy than the girl had yet inspired. "But
don't be blue."

"