y-blue eyes was still present, but the eyes themselves were, in some
indefinable way, deepening, and all the maturity that as yet was
withheld from her undeveloped little form looked out from beneath her
long lashes.

But Laura was veritably regal. Very slender as yet, no trace of fulness
to be seen over hip or breast, the curves all low and flat, she yet
carried her extreme height with tranquil confidence, the unperturbed
assurance of a chatelaine of the days of feudalism.

Her coal-black hair, high-piled, she wore as if it were a coronet. The
warmth of the exuberant spring days had just perceptibly mellowed the
even paleness of her face, but to compensate for this all the splendour
of coming midsummer nights flashed from her deep-brown eyes.

On this occasion she had put on her coat over her shirt-waist, and a
great bunch of violets was tucked into her belt. But no sooner had she
exchanged greetings with the others and settled herself in her place
than she slipped her coat from her shoulders.

It was while she was doing this that she noted, for the first time,
Landry Court standing half in and half out of the shadow of the
vestibule behind Mr. Cressler's chair.

"This is the first time he has been here since--since that night," Mrs.
Cressler hastened to whisper in Laura's ear. "He told me about--well,
he told me what occurred, you know. He came to dinner to-night, and
afterwards the poor boy nearly wept in my arms. You never saw such
penitence."

Laura put her chin in the air with a little movement of incredulity.
But her anger had long since been a thing of the past. Good-tempered,
she could not cherish resentment very long. But as yet she had greeted
Landry only by the briefest of nods.

"Such a warm night!" she murmured, fanning herself with part of Mr.
Cressler's evening paper. "And I never was so thirsty."

"Why, of course," exclaimed Mrs. Cressler. "Isabel," she called,
addressing Miss Gretry, who sat on the opposite side of the steps,
"isn't the lemonade near you? Fill a couple of glasses for Laura and
Page."

Page murmured her thanks, but Laura declined.

"No; just plain water for me," she said. "Isn't there some inside? Mr.
Court can get it for me, can't he?" Landry brought the pitcher back,
running at top speed and spilling half of it in his eagerness. Laura
thanked him with a smile, addressing him, however, by his last name.
She somehow managed to convey to him in her manner the information that