m the grass. There was now no hint of the dawn's
coolness; the day had begun.

Her father met her at the door with an exclamation about her early
hours. He would really see something of her, he said, if she kept up
this sort of thing. It would be too good to be true if he could
breakfast with her every morning. Whereupon he rang for the coffee and
unfolded his newspaper. Lydia did not notice his absorption in the news
of the day, partly because she was trained from childhood up to consider
reading the newspaper as the main occupation of a man at home, but more
because on this occasion she was herself preoccupied. When Mrs. Mortimer
came in on an errand and was prevailed upon to sit down for some
breakfast with her father and sister, there was a little more
conversation.

Mrs. Emery had not come down stairs. A slight indisposition which she
had felt for several days seemed to have been augmented by the
excitement of Lydia's return. She had slept badly, and was quite
uncomfortable, she told her husband, and thought she would stay in bed
and send for Dr. Melton. It seemed foolish, she apologized, but now
that Lydia was back, she wanted to be on the safe side and lose no time.
After these facts had been communicated to her older daughter, Mrs.
Mortimer asked, "How in the world does it happen that you're up at this
hour?"

Lydia answered that she had been inspecting the yard, which she had not
seen the day before. She described quite elaborately her tour of
investigation, without any mention of her encounter with her early
caller, and only after a pause added carelessly, "Who do you suppose
came along but that Mr. Rankin you were all talking about yesterday?"

Judge Emery laid down his paper. "What under the sun was he prowling
about for at that hour?"

"He wasn't prowling," said Lydia. "He was fairly tearing along past the
house so fast that he 'most ran over me before I saw him. I'd forgotten
he is so handsome."

"Handsome!" Mrs. Mortimer cried out at the idea. "With that beard!"

"I like beards, sometimes," said Lydia.

"It makes a man look like a barbarian. I'd as soon wear a nose-ring as
have Ralph wear a beard."

"Why, everybody who is anybody in Europe wears a beard, or a mustache,
anyhow," opposed Lydia. "I got to liking to see them."

"Oh, of course if they do it in Europe, we provincial stay-at-homes
haven't a word to say." Mrs. Mortimer had invented a peculiar tone which
she reserved for speeches like