," answered Jane simply.

"Does he come often?" She had turned her head now and was looking from
under her lids at Martha. "Just as he used to and sit around, or has
he--" Here she lifted her eyebrows in inquiry, and a laugh bubbled out
from between her lips.

"Yes, that's just what he does do," cried Martha in a triumphant tone;
"every minute he kin git. And he can't come too often to suit me. I
jest love him, and I'm not the only one, neither, darlin'," she added
with a nod of her head toward Jane.

"And Barton Holt as well?" persisted Lucy. "Why, sister, I didn't
suppose there would be a man for me to look at when I came home, and
you've got two already! Which one are you going to take?" Here her rosy
face was drawn into solemn lines.

Jane colored. "You've got to be a great tease, Lucy," she answered as
she leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm not in the back of
the doctor's head, nor he in mine--he's too busy nursing the sick--and
Bart's a boy!"

"Why, he's twenty-five years old, isn't he?" exclaimed Lucy in some
surprise.

"Twenty-five years young, dearie--there's a difference, you know.
That's why I do what I can to help him. If he'd had the right
influences in his life and could be thrown a little more with nice
women it would help make him a better man. Be very good to him, please,
even if you do find him a little rough."

They had mounted the steps of the porch and were now entering the wide
colonial hall--a bare white hall, with a staircase protected by
spindling mahogany banisters and a handrail. Jane passed into the
library and seated herself at her desk. Lucy ran on upstairs, followed
by Martha to help unpack her boxes and trunks.

When they reached the room in which Martha had nursed her for so many
years--the little crib still occupied one corner--the old woman took
the wide hat from the girl's head and looked long and searchingly into
her eyes.

"Let me look at ye, my baby," she said, as she pushed Lucy's hair back
from her forehead; "same blue eyes, darlin', same pretty mouth I kissed
so often, same little dimples ye had when ye lay in my arms, but ye've
changed--how I can't tell. Somehow, the face is different."

Her hands now swept over the full rounded shoulders and plump arms of
the beautiful girl, and over the full hips.

"The doctor's right, child," she said with a sigh, stepping back a pace
and looking her over critically; "my baby's gone--you've filled out to
be a woman.