he nurse, too, and I've had a splendid
nap."

"I'm evidently the delinquent," laughed Graydon, "and have led the way
in a conversation that has been as bad as whispering in company. What
will become of me? You are not going to church to-night, Madge?"

"I did not expect to. If your conscience needs soothing--"

"Oh, no, no. My conscience has been seared with a hot iron--a cold
one, I mean. The effects are just the same."

At the supper-room door they were met by Dr. Sommers, with a world of
comical trouble in his face, and he drew Madge aside.

"What's a man to do?" he began. "Here's our choir-leader sick, and the
rest won't chirp without him. I can't sing any more than I can dance.
You can--sing, I mean--both, for that matter. I'd give the best
cast of a fly I ever had to take you out in a reel. Well, here's the
trouble. It's nearly meeting-time, and what's a meeting without music?
You can sing--I'm sure you can. I've heard you twice in the chapel.
Now, it isn't imposing on good-nature, is it, to ask you to come over
and start the tunes for us to-night? Come now, go with me. It will be a
great favor, and I'll get even with you before the summer is over."

Madge hesitated a moment. She had hoped for a chat with Graydon that
evening, which might lead to a better understanding, and end their
tendency to rather thorny badinage. But she heard him chatting gayly
with Miss Wildmere and Mr. Arnault in the distance; therefore she
said, quietly, "It is time for me to get even with you first. To
refuse would not be nice after the lovely drive you took us the other
day."

"Oh, you made that square as you went along. Well, now, this is
famous. What a meeting we'll have!"

"You explain to Mrs. Muir, and I'll get my hat."

"I'm in luck," the doctor began, joining the Muirs on the piazza.

"Of course you are. You are always in luck," said Mrs. Muir.

"Oh, no, oh, no. Draw it milder than that. I've fished many a bad day.
I'm in luck to-night. What do you think? You can't guess."

"You and Madge had your heads together, and so something will happen.
Are you going to capture a mountain?"

"Yes, a brace of 'em before long. Well, as good luck would have it,
our choir-leader is sick. I thought it was bad luck at first, and
meant to give him an awful dose for being so inopportune. It has
turned out famously. 'All-things work together for good,' you know.
That text required faith once when I had hooked a three-pound trout,
and