Mr. Lindmeyer comes up and spends two days watching the working. He is
very much impressed with some of the ideas. If _he_ could see Mr. St.
Vincent.

Mr. St. Vincent is ill, but expects to be sufficiently recovered to
return soon.

All these matters occupy a good deal of Floyd Grandon's time. Cecil
learns to do without him and allow herself to be amused by Jane and
Auntie Gertrude, who is her favorite. Marcia teases her by well-meant
but very injudicious attention. Guests and friends come and go, wedding
gifts begin to be sent in, and that absorbing air of half-mystery
pervades every place.

They have all come to adore Madame Lepelletier. Even Mrs. Grandon is
slowly admitting to herself that Floyd could not do better, and half
resigns herself to the inevitable second place. Laura takes up the idea
with the utmost enthusiasm. Gertrude does not share in this general
worship; she is too listless, and there is a feeling of being distanced
so very far that it is uncomfortable.

Strange to say, with all her irresistible tenderness she has not won
Cecil. She feels curiously jealous of this little rival, who, wrapped
in a shawl, often falls asleep on her father's knee in the evening. He
always takes her to drive, whoever else goes; and it comes to be a
matter of course that Cecil has the sole right to him when he is in the
house and not writing.

There has been so much summer planning. Laura wants madame to come to
Newport for a month, and partly extorts a promise from Floyd that he
will give her at least a week. Marcia's "hermits" come up to talk over
Maine and the Adirondacks and Lake George, and finally settle upon the
latter. Their nearest neighbors, the Brades, own a cottage in the
vicinity, and beg Mrs. Grandon and madame and Eugene to bestow upon
them a week or two. Miss Lucia Brade is extremely sweet upon Eugene,
who thrives upon admiration, but has a fancy for laying his own at
madame's feet.

"Why did you not escort that pretty Miss Brade home?" she says one
evening, when Lucia has been sent in the carriage.

"Why? because my charm was here," he answers audaciously, imprinting a
kiss upon her fair hand.

"You foolish boy. And I am too tired to remain. I should be dull
company unless you want to walk."

There is the wandering scent of a cigar in the shrubbery, and they may
meet Floyd, who has absented himself since dinner.

Eugene goes for her shawl and they take a little ramble. He is very
averse to f