red in Aunt
Isabel's book of Japanese prints. Missy wished she might see Japan--Mr.
Dobson had probably been there--lecturers usually were great travellers.
He'd probably been everywhere--led a thrilling sort of life--the sort of
life that makes one interesting. Oh, if only she could talk to him--just
once. She sighed. Why didn't interesting people like that ever come to
Cherryvale to live? Everybody in Cherryvale was so--so commonplace. Like
Bill Cummings, the red-haired bank teller, who thought a trip to St.
Louis an adventure to talk about for months! Or like old Mr. Siddons,
or Professor Sutton, or the clerks in Mr. Bonner's store. In Cherryvale
there was only this settled, humdrum kind of people. Of course there
were the boys; Raymond was nice--but you can't expect mere boys to be
interesting. She recalled that smiling, subtly intimate glance from Mr.
Dobson's eyes. Oh, if he would stay in Cherryvale just a week! If only
he'd come back just once! If only--

"Missy! The dew's falling! You'll catch your death of cold! Come in the
house at once!"

Bother! there was mother calling. But mothers must be obeyed, and Missy
had to trudge dutifully indoors--with a tablet still blank.

Next morning mother's warning about catching cold fulfilled itself.
Missy awoke with a head that felt as big as a washtub, painfully
laborious breath, and a wild impulse to sneeze every other minute.
Mother, who was an ardent advocate of "taking things in time," ordered a
holiday from school and a footbath of hot mustard water.

"This all comes from your mooning out there in the summerhouse so late,"
she chided as, with one tentative finger, she made a final test of the
water for her daughter's feet.

She started to leave the room.

"Oh, mother!"

"Well?" Rather impatiently Mrs. Merriam turned in the doorway.

"Would you mind handing me my tablet and pencil?"

"What, there in the bath?"

"I just thought"--Missy paused to sneeze--"maybe I might get an
inspiration or something, and couldn't get out to write it down."

"You're an absurd child." But when she brought the tablet and pencil,
Mrs. Merriam lingered to pull the shawl round Missy's shoulders a little
closer; Missy always loved mother to do things like this it was at such
times she felt most keenly that her mother loved her.

Yet she was glad to be left alone.

For a time her eyes were on her bare, scarlet feet in the yellow mustard
water. But that unbeautiful colour combin