inopportune time.

"I will go with you both as far as the postoffice," said Mrs. Kemp; and
the good soul did not notice the expression of annoyance on both faces,
and, very much against the will of each, she accompanied them there and
back.

Iris was bitterly annoyed, but she was diplomatic enough to conceal it;
and she could see, too, by Harry's face that he was disappointed in
being so ruthlessly cheated out of a _tete-a-tete_ with her.

They loitered long by the way, trusting that Mrs. Kemp would become
impatient with their delay, and excuse herself, to get back to the house
in time to superintend dinner, which was quite a feature at Gray Gables.

"You do not seem to be in any hurry to-day," laughed Iris, eyeing her
aunt sideways.

"No; for it is not often that I indulge myself in going out for a
stroll," answered Mrs. Kemp, "and I need to make the most of it. If I am
not back at the usual time Dorothy will superintend affairs--bless her
dear little heart! Why, she's a regular little jewel about the house,
even with her affliction."

This praise of Dorothy was anything but pleasant to Iris, especially
when Kendal was present, and she turned the conversation at once into
another channel.

As they neared the house they met one of the servants hurrying down the
road.

"You are the very person I am looking for, ma'am," he cried,
breathlessly. "There is something the matter with the range, and they
are all in a stew over it, not knowing what to do until you come."

"Good gracious! if I step out of the house for a moment something is
sure to happen," cried the good old lady, despairingly. "Say that I will
be there directly, John;" and much to Iris' relief, she hurriedly left
them.

"Why need we hasten?" said Kendal, in a low voice. "This is the
pleasantest part of the afternoon."

"I am in no hurry," assented the girl.

"We will linger here in this delightful spot, and I will gather you some
autumn leaves," cried Harry. "Would you like that?"

"Yes," she assented; "if you will help me to weave them into garlands."

"Nothing would give me more pleasure," he declared; "that is, if you are
not afraid of the old tradition becoming true."

She looked up into his face, blushing as crimson as the heart of a
deep-red rose.

"I have never heard it," she said. "Do tell me what it is."

"Bye and bye, with your permission, while we are weaving the garlands,"
Harry answered, with a rich, mellow laugh. "If I should