with Aunt Hannah."

"And she's not married--or even engaged?"

"Wasn't the last I heard. I haven't seen her since December, and I've
heard from her only indirectly. She corresponds with my sister, and so
do I--intermittently. I heard a month ago from Belle, and _she_ had a
letter from Billy in August. But I heard nothing of any engagement."

"How about the Henshaws? I should think there might be a chance there
for a romance--a charming girl, and three unattached men."

Calderwell gave a slow shake of the head.

"I don't think so. William is--let me see--nearly forty-five, I guess,
by this time; and he isn't a marrying man. He buried his heart with his
wife and baby years ago. Cyril, according to Bertram, 'hates women
and all other confusion,' so that ought to let him out. As for Bertram
himself--Bertram is 'only Bertram.' He's always been that. Bertram loves
girls--to paint; but I can't imagine him making serious love to any one.
It would always be the tilt of a chin or the turn of a cheek that he was
admiring--to paint. No, there's no chance for a romance there, I'll
warrant."

"But there's--yourself."

Calderwell's eyebrows rose the fraction of an inch.

"Oh, of course. I presume January or February will find me back there,"
he admitted with a sigh and a shrug. Then, a little bitterly, he added:
"No, Arkwright. I shall keep away if I can. I _know_ there's no chance
for me--now."

"Then you'll leave me a clear field?" bantered the other.

"Of course--'Mary Jane,'" retorted Calderwell, with equal lightness.

"Thank you."

"Oh, you needn't," laughed Calderwell. "My giving you the right of way
doesn't insure you a thoroughfare for yourself--there are others, you
know. Billy Neilson has had sighing swains about I her, I imagine, since
she could walk and talk. She is a wonderfully fascinating little bit of
femininity, and she has a heart of pure gold. All is, I envy the man who
wins it--for the man who wins that, wins her."

There was no answer. Arkwright sat with his eyes on the moving throng
outside the window near them. Perhaps he had not heard. At all events,
when he spoke some time later, it was of a matter far removed from Miss
Billy Neilson, or the way to her heart. Nor was the young lady mentioned
between them again that day.

Long hours later, just before parting for the night, Arkwright said:

"Calderwell, I'm sorry, but I believe, after all, I can't take that trip
to the lakes with you. I--I'm