awninged interiors, uniformed
maids, the clink of iced glasses, the flash of white sails on blue
water. She could surely afford for that time to be patient and sweet.
She lifted Rebecca's starched petticoat from the bed to give Mother a
seat, when Mother came rather wearily in to watch them.

"Sweet girl to take them, Mark," said Mother, appreciatively. "I
was going to ask Brucie. But he's gone to bed, poor fellow; he's
worn out to-night."

"He had a letter from Ned Gunther this morning," said Rebecca,
cheerfully,--powdering the tip of her pretty nose, her eyes almost
crossed with concentration,--"and I think it made him blue all day."

"Ned Gunther?" said Margaret.

"Chum at college," Rebecca elucidated; "a lot of them are going to
Honolulu, just for this month, and of course they wanted Bruce. Mark,
does that show?"

Margaret's heart ached for the beloved brother's disappointment. There
it was again, all wrong! Before she left the house with the rioting
youngsters, she ran upstairs to his room. Bruce, surrounded by
scientific magazines, a drop-light with a vivid green shade over his
shoulder, looked up with a welcoming smile.

"Sit down and talk, Mark," said he.

Margaret explained her hurry.

"Bruce,--this isn't much fun!" she said, looking about the room
with its shabby dresser and worn carpet. "Why aren't you going
to the concert?"

"Is there a concert?" he asked, surprised.

"Why, didn't you hear us talking at dinner? The Elks, you know."

"Well--sure! I meant to go to that. I forgot it was to-night," he
said, with his lazy smile. "I came home all in, forgot everything."

"Oh, come!" Margaret urged, as eagerly as Rebecca ever did.
"It's early, Bruce, come on! You don't have to shave! We'll
hold a seat,--come on!"

"Sure, I will!" he said, suddenly roused. The magazines rapped on the
floor, and Margaret had barely shut the door behind her when she heard
his bare feet follow them.

It was like old times to sit next to him through the hot merry
evening, while Rebecca glowed like a little rose among her friends,
and the smaller boys tickled her ear with their whispered comments.
Margaret had sent a telegram to Professor Tenison, and felt relieved
that at least that strain was spared her. She even danced with Bruce
after the concert, and with one or two old friends.

Afterwards, they strolled back slowly through the inky summer dark,
finding the house hot and close when they came in. Margaret went