re sweet, my dear, to insist on putting it in. Truxton
must stay here for two weeks more, and he wants me to stay with him.
Then we shall come down together. Can you get along without me? We
are going to the most wonderful plays, and to smart places to eat, and
I danced last night on a roof garden. Should I say 'on' or 'in' a roof
garden? Truxton says that my step is as light as a girl's. I think my
head is a little turned. I am very happy."

Becky laid the letter down. "Would anyone have believed that Aunt
Claudia could----"

"You have said that before, my dear. Your Aunt Claudia wasn't born in
the ark----"

"But, Grandfather, I didn't mean that."

"It sounded like it. I shall write to her to stay as long as she can.
We can get along perfectly without her."

"Of course," said Becky slowly. She had a feeling that, at all costs,
she ought to call Aunt Claudia back.

For Dalton, after that first ride in the rain from Pavilion Hill, had
speeded his wooing. He had swept Becky along on a rushing tide. He
had courted the Judge, and the Judge had pressed upon him invitation
after invitation. Day and night the big motor had flashed up to
Huntersfield, bringing Dalton to some tryst with Becky, or carrying her
forth to some gay adventure. Her world was rose-colored. She had not
dreamed of life like this. She seemed to have drunk of some new wine,
which lighted her eyes and flamed in her cheeks. Her beauty shone with
an almost transcendent quality. As the dove's plumage takes on in the
spring an added luster, so did the bronze of Becky's hair seem to burn
with a brighter sheen.

Yet the Judge noticed nothing.

"Did you ask him to dine with us?" he had demanded, when Dalton had
called Becky up on the morning of the receipt of Aunt Claudia's letter.

"No, Grandfather."

"Then I'll do it," and he had gone to the telephone, and had urged his
hospitality.

II

When Dalton came Becky met him on the front steps of the house.

"Dinner is late," she said, "let's go down into the garden."

The garden at Huntersfield was square with box hedges and peaked up
with yew, and there were stained marble statues of Diana and Flora and
Ceres, and a little pool with lily pads.

"You are like the pretty little girls in the picture books," said
George, as they walked along. "Isn't that a new frock?"

"Yes," said Becky, "it is. Do you like it?"

"You are a rose among the roses," he said. He wondered a bit at