at the
Bentleys'."

"Far be it from me to say where you shall lunch me," I returned. "The
question isn't where, but when and how, with me."

He got his hat and stick, and as we started out of his door he began:
"You'll be a little surprised at the informality, perhaps, but I'm glad
you take it so easily. It makes it easier for me to explain that I'm
almost domesticated at the Bentley homestead; I come and go very much as
if it were my own house."

"My dear fellow," I said, "I'm not surprised at anything in your
relation to the Bentley homestead, and I won't vex you with any glad
inferences."

"Why," he returned, a little bashfully, "there's no explicit change. The
affair is just where it has been all along. But with the gradual decline
in Mrs. Bentley--I'm afraid you'll notice it--she seems rather to want
me about, and at times I'm able to be of use to Edith, and so--"

He stopped, and I said, "Exactly."

He went on: "Of course it's rather anomalous, and I oughtn't to let you
get the impression that she has actually conceded anything. But she
shows herself much more--er, shall I say?--affectionate, and I can't
help hoping there may be a change in her mood which will declare itself
in an attitude more favorable to--"

I said again, "Exactly," and Glendenning resumed:

"In spite of Edith's not having been quite so well as usual--she's
wonderfully well now--it's been a very happy summer with us, on account
of this change. It seems to have come about in a very natural way with
Mrs. Bentley, and out of a growing regard which I can't specifically
account for, as far as anything I've done is concerned."

"I think I could account for it," said I. "She must be a stonier-hearted
old lady than I imagine if she hasn't felt your goodness, all along,
Glendenning."

"Why, you're very kind," said the gentle creature. "You tempt me to
repeat what she said, at the only time she expressed a wish to have me
oftener with them: 'You've been very patient with a contrary old woman.
But I sha'n't make you wait much longer.'"

"Well, I think that was very encouraging, my dear fellow."

"Do you?" he asked, wistfully. "I thought so too, at first, but when I
told Edith she could not take that view of it. She said that she did not
believe her mother had changed her mind at all, and that she only meant
she was growing older."

"But, at any rate," I argued, "it was pleasant to have her make an open
recognition of your patience."

"