s ears,
perhaps--was bobbing slowly up and down; a faint rattle of wheels
came to their ears.

"Don't tell anyone, yet," he urged, and stepped down from the
veranda, his unseeing gaze still fixed upon the slow advance of those
bobbing ears.

"Someone is coming," she said.

He glanced at her, marveling at the swift transition in her face. A
moment before she had been listless, sad, disheartened by his
apparent disapproval of her plans. Now all at once the cloud had
vanished; she was once more cheerful, calm, even smiling.

She too had been looking and had at once recognized the four persons
seated in the shabby old carryall which at that moment turned in at
the gate.

"I am to have visitors," she said tranquilly.

His eyes reluctantly followed hers. There were four women in the
approaching vehicle.

As on another occasion, the young man beat a swift retreat.

Chapter XII

"I am sure I don't know what you'll think of us gadding about in the
morning so," began Mrs. Dix, as she caught sight of Lydia.

Mrs. Dix was sitting in the back seat of the carryall with Mrs.
Dodge. The two girls were in front. Lydia noticed mechanically that
both were freshly gowned in white and that Fanny, who was driving,
eyed her with haughty reserve from under the brim of her flower-laden
hat. Ellen Dix had turned her head to gaze after Jim Dodge's
retreating figure; her eyes returned to Lydia with an expression of
sulky reluctance.

"I'm so glad to see you," said Lydia. "Won't you come in?"

"I should like to," said Mrs. Dodge. "Jim has been telling us about
the improvements, all along."

"It certainly does look nice," chimed in Mrs. Dix. "I wouldn't have
believed it possible, in such a little time, too. Just cramp that
wheel a little more, Fanny."

The two older women descended from the carryall and began looking
eagerly around.

"Just see how nice the grass looks," said Mrs. Dodge. "And the
flowers! My! I didn't suppose Jim was that smart at fixing things
up.... Aren't you going to get out, girls?"

The two girls still sat on the high front seat of the carryall; both
were gazing at Lydia in her simple morning frock. There were no
flowers on Lydia's Panama hat; nothing but a plain black band; but it
had an air of style and elegance. Fanny was wishing she had bought a
plain hat without roses. Ellen tossed her dark head:

"I don't know," she said. "You aren't going to stay long; are you,
mother?"

"For pity sake,