ed but a few moments before the blazing Sunday was precipitated
upon them, and everybody was late for everything.

The kitchen was filled with the smoke from hot griddles blue in the
sunshine, when Margaret went downstairs; and in the dining-room the
same merciless light fell upon the sticky syrup pitcher, and upon the
stains on the tablecloth. Cream had been brought in in the bottle, the
bread tray was heaped with orange skins, and the rolls piled on the
tablecloth. Bruce, who had already been to church with Mother, and was
off for a day's sail, was dividing his attention between Robert and
his watch. Rebecca, daintily busy with the special cup and plate that
were one of her little affectations, was all ready for the day, except
as to dress, wearing a thin little kimono over her blue ribbons and
starched embroideries. Mother was putting up a little lunch for Bruce.
Confusion reigned. The younger boys were urged to hurry, if they
wanted to make the "nine." Rebecca was going to wait for the "half
past ten," because the "kids sang at nine, and it was fierce." Mr.
Paget and his sons departed together, and the girls went upstairs for
a hot, tiring tussle with beds and dusting before starting for church.
They left their mother busy with the cream freezer in the kitchen. It
was very hot even then.

But it was still hotter, walking home in the burning midday stillness.
A group of young people waited lazily for letters, under the trees
outside the post-office door. Otherwise the main street was deserted.
A languid little breeze brought the far echoes of pianos and
phonographs from this direction and that.

"Who's that on the porch?" said Rebecca, suddenly, as they neared
home, instantly finding the stranger among her father and the boys.
Margaret, glancing up sharply, saw, almost with a sensation of
sickness, the big, ungainly figure, the beaming smile, and the shock
of dark hair that belonged to nobody else in the world but John
Tenison, A stony chill settled about her heart as she went up the
steps and gave him her hand.

Oh, if he only couldn't stay to dinner, she prayed. Oh, if only he
could spare them time for no more than a flying visit! With a sinking
heart she smiled her greetings.

"Doctor Tenison,--this is very nice of you!" Margaret said. "Have you
met my father--my small brothers?"

"We have been having a great talk," said John Tenison, genially, "and
this young man--" he indicated Robert, "has been showing m