her cheeks, the light in her eyes. What had Dalton been
saying? "I don't want any tea. And there's a storm coming."

All her life Becky had been terrified in a storm. She had cowered and
shivered at the first flash of lightning, at the first rush of wind, at
the first roll of thunder. And now she sat serene, while the trees waved
despairing arms to a furious sky, while blackness settled over the
earth, while her ears were assailed by the noise of a thousand guns.

What had come over her? More than anything else, the thing that struck
against Randy's heart was this lack of fear in Becky!

IV

Of course it was Dalton who took Becky home. There had been a sharp
summons to Kemp, who came running up with raincoats, a rush for the car,
a hurried "Won't you come with us, Randy?" from Becky, and Randy's curt
refusal, and then the final insult from Dalton.

"Kemp will get you home, Paine, when he takes the tea things."

Randy wanted to throw something after him--preferably a tomahawk--as
Dalton went down the hill, triumphantly, shielding Becky from the
elements.

He watched until a curtain of rain shut them out, but he heard the roar
of the motor cutting through the clamor of the storm.

"Well, they're off, sir," said Kemp cheerfully.

He was packing the Canton teapot in its basket and was folding up the
chairs and tables. Randy had a sense of outrage. Here he was, a
Randolph Paine of King's Crest, left behind in the rain with a man who
had his mind on--teapots---- He stood immovable in the arched opening,
his arms folded, and with the rain beating in upon him.

"You'll get wet," Kemp reminded him; "it's better on this side, sir."

"I don't mind the rain. I won't melt; I've had two years in France."

"You have, sir?" something in Kemp's voice made Randy turn and look at
him. The little man had his arms full of biscuit boxes, and he was
gazing at Randy with a light in his eyes which had not been for Dalton.

"I had three years myself. And the best of my life, sir."

Randy nodded. "A lot of us feel that way."

"The fighting," said Kemp, "was something awful. But it was--big--and
after it things seem a bit small, sir." He drew a long breath and came
back to his Canton teapot and his folding table and his plans for
departure.

"I'll be glad to take you in the little car, Mr. Paine."

"No," said Randy; "no, thank you, Kemp. I'll wait here until the storm
is over."

Kemp, with a black rubber cape buttoned about