fresh and sweet as the morning itself. "Am I
too late to have any breakfast, Mrs. Carr?" she asked, gaily. "I know I
don't deserve any."

"Of course you shall have breakfast. I'll see to it."

Elaine took her place at the table and Dorothy, reluctant to put further
strain on the frail bond that anchored Mrs. Smithers to her service,
brought in the breakfast herself.

"You're so good to me," said the girl, gratefully, as Dorothy poured out a
cup of steaming coffee. "To think how beautiful you've been to me, when I
never saw either one of you in my whole life, till I came here ill and
broken-hearted! See what you've made of me--see how well and strong I
am!"

Swiftly, Dorothy bent and kissed Elaine, a strange, shadowy cloud for ever
lifted from her heart. She had not known how heavy it was nor how charged
with foreboding, until it was gone.

"I want to do something for you," Elaine went on, laughing to hide the
mist in her eyes, "and I've just thought what I can do. My mother had some
beautiful old mahogany furniture, just loads of it, and some wonderful
laces, and I'm going to divide with you."

"No, you're not," returned Dorothy, warmly. She felt that Elaine had
already given her enough.

"It isn't meant for payment, Mrs. Carr," the girl went on, her big blue
eyes fixed upon Dorothy, "but you're to take it from me just as I've taken
this lovely Summer from you. You took in a stranger, weak and helpless and
half-crazed with grief, and you've made her into a happy woman again."

Before Dorothy could answer, Dick lounged in, frankly sleepy. "Second call
in the dining car?" he asked, taking Mrs. Dodd's place, across the table
from Elaine.

"Third call," returned Dorothy, brightly, "and, if you don't mind, I'll
leave you two to wait on yourselves." She went upstairs, her heart light,
not so much from reality as from prescience. "How true it is," she
thought, "that if you only wait and do the best you can, things all work
out straight again. I've had to learn it, but I know it now."

"Bully bunch, the Carrs," remarked Dick, pushing his cup to Elaine.

"They're lovely," she answered, with conviction.

The sun streamed brightly into the dining-room of the Jack-o'-Lantern and
changed its hideousness into cheer. Seeing Elaine across from him,
gracefully pouring his coffee, affected Dick strangely. Since the day
before, he had seen clearly something which he must do.

"I say, Elaine," he began, awkwardly. "That beas