ddle of the
morning but had found no reference to the performance of _Tosca_ the
night before. John had spent a good part of the day fretting over the
absence of any news as to how Paula's venture had succeeded and puzzling
over the lack of it in the papers. Then the obvious explanation had
struck one of the boys, that the papers that came out to Hickory Hill on
Sunday were an early edition.

He had had old Pete drive him straight into town, at that, and there he
had found the news-stand edition containing the criticisms. The
unfairness of them had disturbed him greatly. Orders or no orders, he
hadn't been able to endure the thought of leaving Paula to suffer under
the sting of a sneer like that without making at least an effort to
comfort her. He had driven out to Ravinia without any idea that she was
to sing again that night; had been told of it at the park where he had
stopped for the purpose of picking up some one who could conduct him to
her house. Learning that she was about to sing again, he had exerted all
his will power and waited until this second ordeal should be over.

"It was as much one for me as it could have been for her," he concluded.
"I don't know what stage fright is, but vicarious stage fright is the
devil. I never was so terrified in my life. I hope nobody I knew saw me.
I took pains they shouldn't, for I must have looked like a ghost."

"There's nothing the matter with your looks now," she told him. "Hickory
Hill must be just the place for you."

"It would be," he assented, "if it were possible for me to be
whole-heartedly there. By the way, we've got a visitor. Anthony March."

She felt herself flush at that with clear pleased surprise. "Oh, that's
as nice as possible," she said. "But how in the world did it happen? How
did you find him? Paula was trying to and couldn't."

"Was she?" Her father's voice, she thought, flattened a little on the
question. "Why, he found us. He turned up on foot--Friday morning, it
must have been--with a knapsack on his shoulders; came to the farm-house
door and asked if he should tune the piano. Luckily, I happened to be
about and caught him before he could get away. He was combining a walking
trip, he said, with his own way of earning a living and I persuaded him
to stay for a few days and make us a visit."

The last part of that sentence, Paula, coming down into the room from
up-stairs, heard.

"Who?" she asked. "Who's the visitor you've been persuading?"