e going to try
to make her sleep. Oh, and may I telephone her husband?"

"Oh, she could give you his name then!" cried Susanna, in relief. "Oh,
I am glad! Indeed, you may telephone. Who is she?"

Miss Smith repeated the name and address.

Susanna, stared at her blankly. Then the most radiant of all her ready
smiles lighted her face.

"Well, this is really the most extraordinary day!" she said softly,
after a pause. "I'll come right up, Miss Smith, but perhaps you might
let me telephone for you first. I can get her husband easily. I know
just where he is. He and my own husband are dining together this
evening, as it happens--"

THE LAST CAROLAN

A blazing afternoon of mid-July lay warmly over the old Carolan house,
and over the dusty, neglected gardens that enclosed it. The heavy
wooden railing of the porch, half smothered in dry vines, was hot to
the touch, as were the brick walks that wound between parched lawns and
the ruins of old flowerbeds. The house, despite the charm of its
simple, unpretentious lines, looked shabby and desolate. Only the great
surrounding trees kept, after long years of neglect, their beauty and
dignity.

At the end of one of the winding paths was an old fountain. Its wide
stone basin was chipped, and the marble figure above it was discolored
by storm and sun. Weeds--such weeds as could catch a foothold in the
shallow layer of earth--had grown rank and high where once water had
brimmed clear and cool, and great lazy bees boomed among them. Cut in
the granite brim, had any one cared to push back the dry leaves and
sifted earth that obscured them, might have been found the words:

Over land and water blown,
Come back to find your own.

A stone bench, sunk unevenly in the loose soil, stood near the fountain
in the shade of the great elms, and here two women were sitting. One of
them was Mary Moore, the doctor's wife, from the village, a charming
little figure in her gingham gown and wide hat. The other was Jean
Carolan, wife of the estate's owner, and mother of Peter, the last
Carolan.

Jean was a beautiful woman, glowing with the bloom of her early
thirties. Her eyes were moving contentedly over house and garden. She
gave Mrs. Moore's hand a sudden impulsive pressure. "Well, here we are,
Mary!" she said, smiling, "just as we always used to plan at St.
Mary's--keeping house in the country near each other, and bringing up
our children together!"

"I never forgot tho