to it. But the franchise had nothing at
all to do with the discussion concerning the New Idea Home, which is
doubtless why it was mentioned; and the meeting of delegates proceeded
without further debate.

After it was ended Valerie hurried away to keep an appointment with
Neville at Burleson's studio, and found the big sculptor lying on the
sofa, neck swathed in flannel, and an array of medicine bottles at his
elbow.

"Can't go to dinner with you," he said; "Rita won't have it. There's
nothing the matter with me, but she made me lie down here, and I've
promised to stay here until she returns."

"John, you don't look very well," said Valerie, coming over and seating
herself by his side.

"I'm all right, except that I catch cold now and then," he insisted
obstinately.

Valerie looked at the pink patches of colour burning in his cheeks.
There was a transparency to his skin, too, that troubled her. He was one
of those big, blond, blue-eyed fellows whose vivid colour and
fine-grained, delicate skin caused physicians to look twice.

He had been reading when Valerie entered; now he laid his ponderous book
away, doubled his arms back under his head and looked at Valerie with
the placid, bovine friendliness which warmed her heart but always left a
slight smile in the corner of her mouth.

"Why do you always smile at me, Valerie?" he asked.

"Because you're good, John, and I like you."

"I know you do. You're a fine woman, Valerie.... So is Rita."

"Rita is a darling."

[Illustration: "'John, you don't look very well,' said Valerie."]

"She's all right," he nodded. A moment later he added: "She comes from
Massachusetts."

Valerie laughed: "The sacred codfish smiled on your cradle, too, didn't
it, John?"

"Yes, thank God," he said seriously.... "I was born in the old town of
Hitherford."

"How funny!" exclaimed the girl.

"What is there funny about that?" demanded John.

"Why, Rita was born in Hitherford."

"Hitherford Centre," corrected John. "Her father was a clergyman there."

"Oh; so you knew it?"

"I knew, of course, that she was from Massachusetts," said John,
"because she speaks English properly. So I asked her where she was born
and she told me.... My grandfather knew hers."

"Isn't it--curious," mused the girl.

"What's curious?"

"Your meeting this way--as sculptor and model."

"Rita is a very fine girl," he said. "Would you mind handing me my pipe?
No, don't. I forgot that Rita won't le