and young Tom Macauley.

"People who have hair like Miss Ruston can go bareheaded where the rest
of us have to tie ourselves together to keep from blowing away," observed
Martha.

Her husband laughed. "I never heard you own quite so frankly before that
parts of you were detachable," said he.

"They're not!" cried Martha, indignantly. "But Miss Ruston's hair is that
crisp, half curly sort that stays just where you put it, and mine is so
straight and fine that it gets stringy. It makes all the difference in
the world."

The car moved off. After a minute it turned a corner and came to a
standstill before a house. Macauley sounded a penetrating horn, and after
a minute the door opened and John Leaver came out.

"Come on, Doctor," called Macauley. "R.P. has been telephoning in, in the
usual fever of haste, to have us get out there. It seems the place is in
order and two patients have arrived. He wants a doctor, nurse, and
photographer on the job at once. Find a place on the back seat, there?"

Leaver came quickly down the walk. He looked like a well man now, whether
he felt like a well one or not. He had gained in weight, his face had
lost its worn look, his eyes were no longer encompassed by shadows. The
sun was in his eyes as he opened the rear door and prepared to take the
one seat left in the car, that beside Charlotte Ruston, who had moved to
one side as she saw what was about to happen. Her shoulder pressed close
against that of Miss Mathewson, she left so large a space for the
newcomer.

After the first exchange of small talk, it was a silent drive. Macauley
was making haste to obey the summons he had received, and the rush of air
past those in the car with him was not conducive to frequent speech. Soon
after they were off Charlotte drew her big white veil over her head and
face, and was lost to view beneath its protecting expanse. One of the
veil's fluttering ends persisted in blowing across Leaver's breast, quite
unnoticed by its owner, whose head did not often turn that way. The man
did not put it aside, but after a time he took hold of it and kept it in
his hand, secure from the domineering breeze.

"Here we are! Behold Sunny Farm, the dream of Doctor and Mrs. Red Pepper,
given tangible shape. Not a bad-looking old rambling place, is it?"

Macauley brought his car to rest beside the long green roadster already
there. Its occupants jumped out and strolled up the slope toward the
white farmhouse, across wh