ly at Black Rock House had definitely prevented the
appearance of their chaperon. Peter's appetite, however, suffered little
diminution upon that account and he learned that singing was not Beth's
only accomplishment. The rolls, as light as feathers and steaming hot,
were eloquent of her skill, the chicken was broiled to a turn, the
creamed potatoes delicious, and the apple pie of puff-paste provoked
memories of the Paris Ritz. Aunt Tillie's best tablecloth and family
silver--old, by the looks of it--had been brought into requisition and a
bunch of goldenrod and purple asters graced the centerpiece. And above
it all presided Beth, her face aflame from the cookstove, gracious and
more than lovable in her pride and self-consciousness.

When the supper was finished, Peter helped her to clear away the things
and insisted on being allowed to help wash the dishes. But to this Beth
demurred for they were of Aunt Tillie's blue colonial china set and not
to be trusted to impious hands. But she let Peter sit in the kitchen and
watch her (which was quite satisfactory) and even spared him a kiss or
two at propitious intervals.

Then when all things had been set to rights they went into the little
parlor and sat on the worn Victorian plush-covered sofa. There was much
to talk about, matters of grave importance that concerned themselves
alone, explanations to be made, hopes to be expressed, and Beth's affair
with McGuire to be discussed in all its phases. Peter told her nothing
of his rank or station in life, saving that revelation for a later
moment. Was not the present all-sufficient? And hadn't Beth told him and
didn't she tell him again now that she believed in him and that "no
matter what" she loved him and was his, for ever after, Amen. She didn't
care who he was, you see.

And when the important business of affirming those vows was concluded
again and again, the scarcely less important business of Beth's future
was talked over with a calmness which did much credit to Beth's control
of the situation. Peter brought out Hawk Kennedy's letter and they read
it together, and talked about it, Peter explaining his intention to
acquiesce in Hawk's plan. Then Peter told of his conversation with
McGuire and of the proof of Ben Cameron's identity which the old man had
honestly admitted.

"It looks very much, Beth," said Peter at last, with a smile, "as though
you were going to be a very wealthy young woman."

"Oh, Peter," she sighed