r
it and him.

Io Eyre had begun to read it, and her heart went out to him anew. For
this was the test of success.

CHAPTER III

It was one of those mornings of coolness after cloying heat when even
the crowded, reeking, frowzy metropolis wakes with a breath of freshness
in its nostrils. Independent of sleep as ever, Banneker was up and
footing it briskly for the station before eight o'clock, for Camilla Van
Arsdale was returning to Manzanita, having been ordered back to her
seclusion with medical science's well-considered verdict wrapped up in
tactful words to bear her company on the long journey. When she would be
ordered on a longer journey by a mightier Authority, medical science
forbore to specify; but in the higher interests of American music it was
urgently pressed upon her that she be abstemious in diet, niggardly of
work, careful about fatigue and excitement, and in general comport
herself in such manner as to deprive the lease of life remaining to her
of most of its savor and worth. She had told Ban that the physicians
thought her condition favorable.

Invalidism was certainly not suggested in her erect bearing and serene
face as she moved about her stateroom setting in order the books,
magazines, flowers, and candy, with which Banneker had sought to fortify
her against the tedium of the trip. As the time for departure drew near,
they fell into and effortfully maintained that meaningless, banal, and
jerky talk which is the inevitable concomitant of long partings between
people who, really caring for each other, can find nothing but
commonplaces wherewith to ease their stress of mind. Miss Van Arsdale's
common sense came to the rescue.

"Go away, my dear," she said, with her understanding smile. "Don't think
that you're obliged to cling to the dragging minutes. It's an ungraceful
posture.... Ban! What makes you look like that?"

"I thought--I heard--"

A clear voice outside said, "Then it must be this one." There was a
decisive tap on the door. "May I come in?"..."Come in," responded Miss
Van Arsdale. "Bring them here, porter," directed the voice outside, and
Io entered followed by an attendant almost hidden in a huge armful of
such roses as are unpurchasable even in the most luxurious of stores.

"I've looted our conservatory," said she. "Papa will slay me. They'll
last to Chicago."

After an almost imperceptible hesitation she kissed the older woman. She
gave her hand to Banneker. "I knew