at she saw
his face in the light, she thought it manly in spite of being beautiful.
She had never before seen a man's face that she thought beautiful. It
struck her as very singular. But even in England, where the Anglo-Saxon
race so often produces perfect Greek types, she had never seen anything
so Hellenic as young Loring. In figure he was tall but slight; the
regular horseman's figure--flat-thighed and slim of leg. His
riding-clothes were almost _too_ well cut, Sophy thought. Loring
appeared to her a little too much like the smart tailor's advertisements
of sportsmen attired for riding. But she enjoyed looking at him. She
wondered, amused, if he didn't enjoy looking at himself. He, on his
side, was thinking: "Lord! What a dazzler! She wins, hands down, over
anything I've ever seen!"

Sophy suddenly remembered the loose plait that hung below her waist. She
laughed, colouring a little. Loring couldn't get his eyes away from her.

"You must excuse my appearing as Gretchen...." she said. "I got caught
in the rain, too. I left my hair down because it wasn't quite dry."

"You really needn't excuse yourself for the way you look, Sophy," said
Macfarlane dryly.

Sophy slipped her arm through his.

"Old humbug!" she said affectionately. She was very fond of Aleck. He
was about ten years older than she was and had taught her how to ride.

Judge Macon took the two men off to tidy up a bit before supper. As soon
as they had disappeared, Charlotte darted to Sophy. She began speaking
rapidly in a nervous whisper.

"Sophy!... I'm dreadfully worried--Machunk Creek is 'up' and those two
boys (all men under fifty had been 'boys' to Charlotte ever since the
birth of her first-born), they'll have to stay all night with us. And
they haven't a _thing_ to sleep in...."

"Well, but Joe will lend them things of course," said Sophy.

Charlotte's anxiety did not abate.

"That's just it!" she whispered hoarsely. "This Mr. Loring looks so
_very_ fashionable. And Joe never _will_ wear anything but those long,
old-fashioned night-shirts! I don't see how I _can_ put one of Joe's
night-shirts on the Blue-room bed for Mr. Loring, Sophy! Aleck's
different-- I don't mind Aleck."

Sophy stared at her for a second, then she sat down on the lowest step
of the stairs and rocked to and fro, hiding her face.

"Sophy! _Sophy!_" said Charlotte, still in that raucous whisper, and
shaking her vexedly by the shoulder. "Stop! Get up and help me! You'r