nk from robbing them of their right to
be alone.

Go somewhere he must, however, so he gathered a few of his effects and
prepared for a flitting--where he hardly knew when he set out, but he
chanced to alight in the domicile of some elderly friends, who were
delighted to give him house and table room in their rather solitary
home.

It chanced that Steve's new rookery (he was in the fourth story) was
quite near Mrs. Lamont's handsome house, and Mrs. Lamont was the aunt
of Nannie Branscome--bewitching, provoking, maddening Nannie
Branscome; uncured, unbaked, indigestible little Nannie Branscome--and
they met, to quote from Kate Douglas Wiggin, "every once in so
often."

Careless, irresponsible Nannie Branscome! growing wild in the garden.

But the cook was near at hand and the fire was lighted.

What manner of cook? A _chef_ or a stupid mixer of messes?

Who knows?

IV

It was bleak and drear. A raw, angry wind came out of the north and
went raging through the woods, tearing the pretty clothing of the
trees to pieces and rudely hurling the dust of the street in one's
face. The sun got behind the clouds and in grief and dismay hid his
face while this dismal looting went on unrebuked and unrestrained. But
Nature is fickle, possibly because she is feminine. At all events, she
can change both mind and conduct, and in short order. So ere long she
came out of her November rage and sat down in still, mellow sunshine,
and gathering her children about her, whispered beautiful stories in
their ears; warmed them with her love and brightness; soothed their
care-lined brows and filled their hearts with a sense of the nearness
of the Giver of all good.

It was on one of these days of Indian summer that Steve cut loose from
work and started off on a tramp. He worked in town; he rested in
country.

He had put something like five miles of woodland and late fall meadow
between himself and the distractions of city life, when looking adown
a path that sloped gently to a brook he saw, sitting on a tree that
lay athwart the stream and paddling her white feet in the sunny water,
Nannie Branscome. His surprise robbed him of his reserve and he
hastened to her.

"Are you lost, Miss Branscome?"

"Yes," she answered calmly.

She still sat there, paddling her feet, with nothing of consternation
or perplexity in her face or manner. All around her were the browns of
a summer that had come and