Of course I can't bring Granny to a damp
house. Putting in my skylight and shingling the rest of the roof will
take care of dampness from above, but I must look after the floors and
foundations. Who owns it, and how can we get in?"

An hour later the key had been obtained from the astonished owner, an
inhabitant of one of the modern houses near by and a nephew of the former
occupants, and the place had been thoroughly gone over. It was examined
by a future tenant who made light of all the real drawbacks to the
place--as the owner secretly considered them--but who demanded absolutely
water-tight conditions as the price of her rent. As she was willing to
pay what seemed to the landlord an extraordinary rent--though he
carefully concealed his feelings on this point--he somewhat grudgingly
agreed to put in the skylight and shingle the roof.

"But when it comes to paint and paper and plumbing, the house isn't worth
it, and I can't agree to do it," he declared positively. "Not for any one
year rental."

"I don't want paint, paper, or plumbing," she replied, and he set her
down as eccentric indeed. "But I do want that fireplace unsealed, and if
you will put that and the chimney in order, so I can have fires there, I
won't ask for any modern conveniences. When can you have it ready for me?
By the middle of July?"

He did not think this possible, but his new tenant convinced him that it
was, and went away smiling, her hands full of June roses, and her spirits
high. It was with her vivid personality at its best that she presently
took her place at the luncheon table, meeting there, however, at first,
only Miss Mathewson.

"My patient has fallen asleep after his walk," Amy explained to Mrs.
Burns, as she came in. "I thought he had better not be wakened."

"You were quite right, I am sure," Ellen agreed. Then she made the two
young women known to each other, and the three sat down. R.P. Burns,
M.D., rushing in the midst of the meal, found them laughing merrily
together over a tale the guest had been telling.

As Burns came forward Miss Ruston rose to meet him. The two regarded each
other with undisguised interest as they shook hands.

"Yes, I can make a much better photograph of you than the one on your
wife's dressing-table," said she, judicially, and laughed at his
astonished expression.

"Can you, indeed?" he inquired. "Have you a snapshot camera concealed
anywhere about you? If so, I'll consider going back to town for