they appeared at the door. "Have this
cheer, Miz Mayfield?"

"No, thank you I'll sit over here." She sat down near the table, and Jim
took a seat opposite to her and resumed his silent gaze. "We have had a
delightful stroll," said Mrs. Mayfield, taking off her gloves; and Lou
who stood behind her peeped around lovingly into her eyes.

"Stroll," cried Tom. "I call it a chase. And you could catch a deer
almost as easily as to keep up with Miss Lou."

"Why, Mr. Tom, I didn't walk fast."

"Oh," he rejoined, "you didn't walk at all. You flitted."

His aunt looked at him. "Tom, dear, don't be extravagant."

"Extravagant! That's the reason father let me come up here. So I
couldn't be extravagant."

"He is determined to be literal," she said with a sigh.

Lou gathered up a handful of flowers that lay in Mrs. Mayfield's lap.
"Let me have these," and she began to weave them into the city woman's
hair.

"Why, daughter," cried Margaret, "don't do that. She mout not like it."

"Oh, don't stop her, please," Mrs. Mayfield replied, and then to Jim she
added: "Did you ever have a fawn touch you with its velvety lip? The
thrill of innocence, the--"

"Auntie, don't be extravagant," Tom broke in, and Lou gave him a look of
tender reproof. "I wish you'd hush, Mr. Tom. I like to hear her talk."

"Why--why don't you like to hear me talk?"

"I do except when you interrupt her."

He hung his head. "Thank you. Wishes should be sacred when set to
music."

"A very pretty speech," said Mrs. Mayfield, nodding Tom a compliment,
and Margaret, not to be left behind, declared: "Oh, he couldn't be
pearter if he tried."

"There," exclaimed the girl, patting Mrs. Mayfield's head, "you are in
bloom."

"She was the moment you said so," Tom replied.

"Do you think so?"

"Yes, I know it. She burst into bloom the moment you spoke."

"Then I'm glad I said it. Some how you always make me feel glad when
I've said somethin'. You are the only--only people that ever did that."

Jim had not spoken. Mrs. Mayfield asked him why he was so silent. "A man
is sometimes most silent when he is afraid of saying too much," he
answered, looking down.

"Mysterious wisdom," she mused, and this gave Tom his opportunity.

"Well, that's what you like, Auntie. You never did care for anything you
could understand."

"I don't care for impertinence, sir," and Lou laughed at him: "There,
you got it that time."

"Ma'm, I have no desire to be mysterious," s