he saw Insall bending over a lathe, from which
the chips were flying. She hesitated. Then he looked up, and seeing her,
reached above his head to pull the lever that shut off the power.

"Come in," he called out, and met her at the doorway. He was dressed
in a white duck shirt, open at the neck, and a pair of faded corduroy
trousers. "I wasn't looking for this honour," he told her, with a
gesture of self-deprecation, "or I'd have put on a dinner coat."

And, despite her eagerness and excitement, she laughed.

"I didn't dare to leave this in the house," she explained. "Mrs. Vesey
wasn't home. And I thought you might be here."

"You haven't made the copy already!"

"Oh, I loved doing it!" she replied, and paused, flushing. She might
have known that it would be simply impossible to talk to him about it!
So she laid it down on the workbench, and, overcome by a sudden shyness,
retreated toward the door.

"You're not going!" he exclaimed.

"I must--and you're busy."

"Not at all," he declared, "not at all, I was just killing time until
supper. Sit down!" And he waved her to a magisterial-looking chair of
Jacobean design, with turned legs, sandpapered and immaculate, that
stood in the middle of the shop.

"Oh, not in that!" Janet protested. "And besides, I'd spoil it--I'm sure
my skirt is wet."

But he insisted, thrusting it under her. "You've come along just in
time, I wanted a woman to test it--men are no judges of chairs. There's
a vacuum behind the small of your back, isn't there? Augusta will have
to put a cushion in it."

"Did you make it for Mrs. Maturin? She will be Pleased!" exclaimed
Janet, as she sat down. "I don't think it's uncomfortable."

"I copied it from an old one in the Boston Art Museum. Augusta saw it
there, and said she wouldn't be happy until she had one like it. But
don't tell her."

"Not for anything!" Janet got to her feet again. "I really must be
going."

"Going where?"

"I told Mrs. Maturin I'd read that new book to her. I couldn't go
yesterday--I didn't want to go," she added, fearing he might think his
work had kept her.

"Well, I'll walk over with you. She asked me to make a little design for
a fountain, you know, and I'll have to get some measurements."

As they emerged from the shop and climbed the slope Janet tried to fight
off the sadness that began to invade her. Soon she would have to be
leaving all this! Her glance lingered wistfully on the old farmhouse
with its gre