ment as she turned to leave, "if Miss March had been sitting in that
chair, if you would have had the heart to tell her to go away; or if you
would have let her sit still, and take cold."

Lawrence smiled, but very slightly. "That subject," said he, "is one on
which I don't joke."

"Goodness!" exclaimed Miss Annie, clasping her hands and gazing with an
air of comical commiseration at Mr Croft's serious face. "I should think
not!" and away she went.

Just before supper time, when Lawrence's door had been closed, and his
lamp lighted, there came a knock, and Mrs Keswick appeared. "That plan
of mine didn't work," she said, "but I will bring Miss March out here,
and manage it so that she'll have to stay till I come back. I have an
idea about that. All that you have to do is to be ready when you get
your chance."

Lawrence thanked her, and assured her he would be very glad to have a
chance, although he hoped, without much ground for it, that Roberta
would not see through the old lady's schemes.

Mrs Keswick lotioned and rebandaged the sprained ankle, and then she
said. "I think it would be pleasant if we were all to come out here
after supper, and have a game of whist. I used to play whist, and
shouldn't mind taking a hand. You could have the table drawn up to your
chair, and,--let me see--yes, there are three more chairs. It won't be
like having her alone with you," she said, with the cordial grin in
which she sometimes indulged, "but you will have her opposite to you for
an hour, and that will be something."

Lawrence approved heartily of the whist party, and assured Mrs Keswick
that she was his guardian angel.

"Not much of that," she said, "but I have been told often enough that
I'm a regular old matchmaker, and I expect I am."

"If you make this match," said Lawrence, "you will have my eternal
gratitude."

The supper sent out to Lawrence was a very good one, and the
anticipation of what was to follow made him enjoy it still more, for his
passion had now reached such a point that even to look at his love,
although he could only speak to her of trumps and of tricks, would be a
refreshing solace which would go down deep into his thirsty soul.

But bedtime and old Isham came, and the whist players came not. It
needed no one to tell Lawrence whose disinclination it was that had
prevented their coming.

"I reckon," said Uncle Isham, as he looked in at Letty's cabin on his
way to his own, "dat dat ar Mister Crof'