ed with it herself.

Rhodora went over to the washstand, and washed and splashed, and used
one of the towels and threw it back upon the rack so that it overhung
all the other fresh towels. Grandmother used one end of Rhodora's towel,
and carefully folded and put it in place, looking regretfully at its
rumpled condition. She took a clean pocket-handkerchief out of her bag.
Rhodora caught sight of it.

"Oh, Grandmother, have you got a spare handkerchief?" she cried. "I've
lost mine, I'm afraid."

Grandmother handed her the little square of fine linen, exquisitely
embroidered with her own monogram, and took another and plainer one from
her bag.

"Try not to lose that one, Granddaughter," she said, in her gentle way.

Rhodora pushed it inside her sleeve. "Oh, I seldom lose two in one day,"
she assured the handkerchief's owner.

I fear it was rather a dull afternoon for Rhodora. The Gay Lady took
Grandmother away after luncheon into the quiet, green-hung library, and
tucked her up on the couch, and covered her with a little silk quilt
from her own room, and went away and played softly upon the piano in the
distance until the old lady fell asleep. Late in the afternoon
Grandmother awoke much refreshed, and found the Gay Lady sitting by the
window, keeping guard.

"It does one's eyes good to look at you, my dear," were Grandmother's
first words, after she had lain for some time quietly observing the
figure by the window, freshly dressed in white. The Gay Lady got up and
came over to the couch and bent down, smiling.

* * * * *

Just in time for a late dinner our men came home, sunburned and hungry.
Seeing guests upon the porch they made for their rooms, and reappeared
presently in that irreproachable trim which the dustiest and most
disreputable-looking of them seems able to achieve, being given plenty
of water, in the twinkling of an eye.

They were presented to Grandmother. At almost the same moment we were
summoned to dinner. The Skeptic gave the old lady his arm. The
Philosopher picked up her black silk bag from the porch floor, and
followed with it dangling from his hand. Just as she reached the table
she dropped her handkerchief, and the Lad sprang for it as a retriever
springs for a stick, and handed it to her with his best boyish bow. The
old lady beamed. Quite evidently this was the sort of thing to which she
was accustomed.

At luncheon Rhodora had rather monopolized the c