on
of the difference between that ample cotton shelter and the dainty silk
affair he held in his hand.

"So," regarding the uncovered coiffure which had won John Dunham's
approval, "so that is what has become of the wreath of curls. H'm. It
makes you look--look very grown up, Sylvia."

"It's about time," returned the girl. "Wasn't I twenty last February?"

They went to the wagon, where the baggage had been placed, and Sylvia
put on the rubber coat and jumped in. A sudden peal of thunder rolled.

"A salute in your honor, my dear," said Thinkright, climbing in beside
her.

"I'm delighted," she answered, as the horses started, "for it means
showers instead of a three days' rain. Here, let's take the calico
tent," she added, "then we can both get under it."

She put her little umbrella under the rubber laprobe, and, raising the
weather-beaten canopy, slipped her arm through Thinkright's.

"I'm going to paint such a lovely picture of you this summer, dear,"
she said, studying his face fondly.

"Of me? Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. I won't admit that any one else can paint such a likeness of
you as I can."

"I hear good reports of your work."

"My own reports?" she laughed.

"No. Calvin's, Edna's, Mr. Dunham's."

"John's, Mr. Dunham's?"

Thinkright's answer was rather slow in coming, she thought.

"Yes. We've had occasion for some correspondence on a matter of
business, and he has mentioned your promise."

"My promise to what?" asked Sylvia, suddenly interested in the
fastening of the umbrella.

"The promise shown in your work," replied her companion, looking
steadily between the horse's ears.

"Oh, yes," returned Sylvia in a small voice.

"You were a little mistaken about that match you had fixed up," said
Thinkright, "between Edna and Mr. Dunham, weren't you?"

"Yes; and she's going to marry such a fine man, so worthy of her in
every way!" Sylvia spoke with enthusiasm.

"You're better pleased than if it had been Dunham?" asked Thinkright.

It was his companion's turn to hesitate. "Oh, she didn't ask my
advice," she replied at last, with elaborate lightness.

"It's rather easy to make mistakes about those matters," observed
Thinkright.

"Yes; and rather easy in avoiding Scylla to fall into Charybdis." She
had spent her winter in endeavoring to avoid Charybdis. Just because it
had not been Edna who was John's ideal was no sign that the Princess
did not exist, either already selected, as Edna's lover had