yable.
There is no velvet lawn, but there is the remnant of an orchard, and
the old trees are still picturesque. They need not have the fuss of a
regular supper, but refreshments out of doors, with quartet tables, for
the evening will be warm and moonlight.

Marcia is delighted. The pony phaeton flies around briskly, and
invitations are accepted on nearly every hand. Floyd Grandon would much
prefer to decline, but he cannot, without seeming churlish, and Violet
takes it as a matter of course.

Is it a special Providence that interferes? That very morning an
important telegram comes, and some one must go to Baltimore. It is not
a matter he cares to have Wilmarth settle, and Eugene is not to be
relied upon. He could take Violet, but it would look absurd this hot
weather, and on such a hurried journey, when he has not hesitated to go
alone before. Why should he be so reluctant to leave her, he wonders.

"It's just shabby!" declares Eugene. "Wait until to-morrow. Marcia will
feel dreadfully put out if you are not there to-night."

"To-morrow would make it too late to see one of the parties, who is to
go abroad." And he knits his brows.

"Well," says Eugene, "I'll take care of Violet to-night, though I can't
hope to fill your place. But--I say, Floyd, do you mind if she waltzes
with me?"

"Not if she cares to," is the answer, in a tone of reluctance that is
quite lost upon the younger. He realizes that he has hardly courage for
a direct prohibition when Eugene has just begun to show himself
brotherly.

Violet is out driving with Cecil. He hurries up to the Latimers'. She
has been there and gone, and there is no more time if he catches his
train, and not to do it might be to lose immeasurably. But to go
without a good-by to her or Cecil, and the old thought, the ghost that
haunts every untoward parting, if he should never see them again,
unmans him for an instant. What folly! Why, he is growing as fearful as
a young lover.

He writes a brief farewell in pencil, and lays it on her table. She
shall decide about the party herself, but he longs for a kiss, for one
look into her lovely, untroubled eyes.

Violet does not return until luncheon is on the table. Eugene is
looking out for her.

"Floyd had to go," he begins. "There was some important business, and
he had to make a Baltimore connection, but he scoured the town to find
you, and was awfully sorry."

It does not occur to Violet that there is anything unusual