s of Goodloets had better take the habit of wearing a double
suit of clothing for fear of having Elsie Spurlock strip them in public
to beyond the law," father grumbled in great pleasure, after he had
packed her and her bundles in Hampton's car. Father always calls Mother
Spurlock "Elsie," and once or twice I have seen a faint blush creep to
her cheeks and a glint flash from her eyes, but he blandly goes on
doing it. I wonder--

"Father," I said, as we went slowly up the front walk together, "Nickols
will be here on Friday; will you have Dabney get his rooms in the north
wing ready for him? He likes that light, and he can use the long green
room for a studio when he sketches."

"That's good," answered father heartily. He likes Nickols and Nickols
manages him beautifully, by giving him all he wants to drink whenever he
suggests it, even introducing him to new Manhattan beverages. There is
perpetual war between Dabney, who knows father's nervous limit, and
Nickols, who doesn't care just as long as things and human beings that
surround him are kept pleasant. It is all right for the rest of the
world to have delirium tremens, just so they do it out of his sight and
hearing.

"I wonder just what Nickols will think of Goodloe," father added, with a
slightly strained laugh. "You thought he would be enraged at Goodloe and
me for building the chapel and weeding the garden. Perhaps he will be
unhappy."

"I don't believe your weeding would make anybody unhappy, father," I
answered with a laugh, choosing to ignore the issue of the building of
the chapel until Nickols was upon the scene and we could decide just
what to do.

"Been over the whole garden twice and eaten several meals in the sweat
of my brow--that is, I took a cold shower before coming to the table, my
daughter," father said, and he looked ashamed of himself for being proud
of his own spurt of normality. I caught my breath, but I was wise enough
not to show my astonishment. "Goodloe is the most insinuating person I
ever met, and I advise you to be careful. He makes men do just as he
wants them to, and I should say that women would eat out of his hand."

"I suppose I ought to eat a bite or two from his fingers to pay for all
the work he has got out of you and Dabney. I never saw the garden so
beautiful or so early. Look, father, the peonies are budding, two weeks
ahead of their usual time!"

"They'd be damned ungrateful not to grow industriously, after the way
D