view. One was to get all the fun
possible out of the situation; another was to provide for her future.
How this was to be accomplished she had not yet determined. Her plans
were laid, but some of them she knew from past experience might go
astray. On one point she had made up her mind--not to be in a hurry. In
furtherance of these schemes she had for some days--some months, in
fact--been making preparations for an important move. She knew that its
bare announcement would come as a surprise to Jane and Martha and,
perhaps, as a shock, but that did not shake her purpose. She
furthermore expected more or less opposition when they fully grasped
her meaning. This she intended to overcome. Neither Jane nor Martha,
she said to herself, could be angry with her for long, and a few kisses
and an additional flow of good-humor would soon set them to laughing
again.

To guard against the possibility of a too prolonged interview with
Jane, ending, perhaps, in a disagreeable scene--one beyond her
control--she had selected a sunny summer morning for the stage setting
of her little comedy and an hour when Feilding was expected to call for
her in his drag. She and Max were to make a joint inspection that day
of his new apartment at Beach Haven, into which he had just moved, as
well as the stable containing the three extra vehicles and equine
impedimenta, which were to add to their combined comfort and enjoyment.

Lucy had been walking in the garden looking at the rose-beds, her arm
about her sister's slender waist, her ears open to the sound of every
passing vehicle--Max was expected at any moment--when she began her
lines.

"You won't mind, Jane, dear, will you, if I get together a few things
and move over to Beach Haven for a while?" she remarked simply, just as
she might have done had she asked permission to go upstairs to take a
nap. "I think we should all encourage a new enterprise like the hotel,
especially old families like ours. And then the sea air always does me
so much good. Nothing like Trouville air, my dear husband used to tell
me, when I came back in the autumn. You don't mind, do you?"

"For how long, Lucy?" asked Jane, with a tone of disappointment in her
voice, as she placed her foot on the top step of the porch.

"Oh, I can't tell. Depends very much on how I like it." As she spoke
she drew up an easy-chair for Jane and settled herself in another. Then
she added carelessly: "Oh, perhaps a month--perhaps two."

"T