have an understanding with him, and give him a message I want
sent, and an order for our breakfast. I wonder if it wouldn't be nice
to have it served on the corner of the veranda in front of our rooms,
under the shade of that big tree."

"I think that would be famous," said Kate.

They ate together under the spreading branches of a giant maple tree,
where they could see into the nest of an oriole that brooded in a long
purse of gray lint and white cotton cord. They could almost reach out
and touch it. The breakfast was good, nicely served by a neat maid,
evidently doing something so out of the ordinary that she was rather
stunned; but she was a young person of some self-possession, for when
she removed the tray, Mrs. Jardine thanked her and gave her a coin that
brought a smiling: "Thank you very much. If you want your dinner
served here and will ask for Jennie Weeks, I'd like to wait on you
again."

"Thank you," said Mrs. Jardine, "I shall remember that. I don't like
changing waiters each meal. It gives them no chance to learn what I
want or how I want it."

Then she and Kate slowly walked the length of the veranda several
times, while she pointed out parts of the grounds they could see that
remained as she had known them formerly, and what were improvements.

When Mrs. Jardine was tired, they returned to the room and she lay on
the bed while they talked of many things; talked of things with which
Kate was familiar, and some concerning which she unhesitatingly asked
questions until she felt informed. Mrs. Jardine was so dainty, so
delicate, yet so full of life, so well informed, so keen mentally, that
as she talked she kept Kate chuckling most of the time. She talked of
her home life, her travels, her friends, her son. She talked of
politics, religion, and education; then she talked of her son again.
She talked of social conditions, Civic Improvement, and Woman's Rights,
then she came back to her son, until Kate saw that he was the real
interest in the world to her. The mental picture she drew of him was
peculiar. One minute Mrs. Jardine spoke of him as a man among men,
pushing, fighting, forcing matters to work to his will, so Kate
imagined him tall, broad, and brawny, indefatigable in his
undertakings; the next, his mother was telling of such thoughtfulness,
such kindness, such loving care that Kate's mental picture shifted to a
neat, exacting little man, purely effeminate as men ever can be; but
what