been at the funeral, but since then the company for which he
worked had shifted him to the East and only a business trip had
brought him to the vicinity of Chicago. Roxanne had written him to
come when he could--after a night in the city he had caught a train
out.

They shook hands and he helped her move two rockers together.

"How's George?"

"He's fine, Roxanne. Seems to like school."

"Of course it was the only thing to do, to send him."

"Of course--"

"You miss him horribly, Harry?"

"Yes--I do miss him. He's a funny boy--"

He talked a lot about George. Roxanne was interested. Harry must bring
him out on his next vacation. She had only seen him once in her
life--a child in dirty rompers.

She left him with the newspaper while she prepared dinner--she had
four chops to-night and some late vegetables from her own garden. She
put it all on and then called him, and sitting down together they
continued their talk about George.

"If I had a child--" she would say.

Afterward, Harry having given her what slender advice he could about
investments, they walked through the garden, pausing here and there to
recognize what had once been a cement bench or where the tennis court
had lain....

"Do you remember--"

Then they were off on a flood of reminiscences: the day they had taken
all the snap-shots and Jeff had been photographed astride the calf;
and the sketch Harry had made of Jeff and Roxanne, lying sprawled in
the grass, their heads almost touching. There was to have been a
covered lattice connecting the barn-studio with the house, so that
Jeff could get there on wet days--the lattice had been started, but
nothing remained except a broken triangular piece that still adhered
to the house and resembled a battered chicken coop.

"And those mint juleps!"

"And Jeff's note-book! Do you remember how we'd laugh, Harry, when
we'd get it out of his pocket and read aloud a page of material. And
how frantic he used to get?"

"Wild! He was such a kid about his writing."

They were both silent a moment, and then Harry said:

"We were to have a place out here, too. Do you remember? We were to
buy the adjoining twenty acres. And the parties we were going to
have!"

Again there was a pause, broken this time by a low question from
Roxanne.

"Do you ever hear of her, Harry?"

"Why--yes," he admitted placidly. "She's in Seattle. She's married
again to a man named Horton, a sort of lumber king. He's a great dea