was frankly delighted at the chance that had brought him in contact
with these charming people; and as Mrs. Carr-Bolt took an instant
fancy to him, and as he was staying at their own hotel, they saw him
after that every day, and several times a day. Margaret would come
down the great sun-bathed stairway in the morning to find him
patiently waiting in a porch chair. Her heart would give a great
leap--half joy, half new strange pain, as she recognized him. There would
be time for a chat over their fruit and eggs before Mr. Carr-Bolt
came down, all ready for a motor-trip, or Mrs. Carr-Bolt, swathed in
cream-colored coat and flying veils, joined them with an approving
"Good-morning."

Margaret would remember these breakfasts all her life; the sun
splashed little table in a corner of the great dining-room, the rosy
fatherly waiter who was so much delighted with her German, the busy
picturesque traffic in the street just below the wide-open window.
She would always remember a certain filmy silk striped gown, a wide
hat loaded with daisies; always love the odor of linden trees in
the spring.

Sometimes the professor went with them on their morning drive, to be
dropped at the lecture-hall with Margaret and Mrs. Carr-Bolt. The
latter was pleased to take the course of lectures very seriously, and
carried a handsome Russian leather note-book, and a gold pencil.
Sometimes after luncheon they all went on an expedition together, and
now and then Margaret and Doctor Tension went off alone on foot, to
explore the city. They would end the afternoon with coffee and little
cakes in some tea-room, and come home tired and merry in the long
shadows of the spring sunset, with wilted flowers from the street
markets in their hands.

There was one glorious tramp in the rain, when the professor's great
laugh rang out like a boy's for sheer high spirits, and when Margaret
was an enchanting vision in her long coat, with her cheeks glowing
through the blown wet tendrils of her hair. That day they had tea in
the deserted charming little parlor of a tiny inn, and drank it
toasting their feet over a glowing fire.

"Is Mrs. Carr-Bolt your mother's or your father's sister?" John
Tension asked, watching his companion with approval.

"Oh, good gracious!" said Margaret, laughing over her teacup. "Haven't
I told you yet that I'm only her secretary? I never saw Mrs. Carr
Bolt until five years ago."

"Perhaps you did tell me. But I got it into my head