ring of candy; he
bit at it, and said he guessed so. Then they poured the foamy stuff into
a pan, and put it in the refrigerator. "We'll wait till it gets stiff,"
said Edith.

"I think," said Johnny, in a low voice, "your hair is handsomer than
most women's. I'm particular about a woman's hair."

Edith, sitting on the edge of the table, displaying very pretty ankles,
put an appraising hand over the brown braids that were wound around her
head in a sort of fillet. "Are you?" she said, and began to yawn--but
stopped short, her mouth still open, for Johnny Bennett was _looking at
her_! "Let's go into the library," she said, hurriedly.

"I like it out here," Johnny objected.

But as he spoke Maurice lounged into the kitchen. "Stiff?" he said.

"No; won't be for ages," Edith said--and instantly the desire to fly to
the library ceased, especially as Mrs. Newbolt came trundling in. With
Maurice astride one of the wooden chairs, his blue eyes droll and
teasing, and Mrs. Newbolt enthroned in adipose good nature close to the
stove, Edith was perfectly willing to stay in the kitchen!

"I say!" Maurice said. "Let's pull the stuff!"

Johnny looked cross. "What," he asked himself, "are Maurice and Mrs.
Newbolt butting in for?" Then he softened, for Maurice was teasing
Edith, and Mrs. Newbolt was tasting the candy, and the next minute all
was in delightful uproar of stickiness and excitement, and Johnny,
exploding into wild cackles of laughter, felt quite young for the next
hour.

Eleanor, upstairs, with Bingo's little silken head on her breast, did
not feel young; she heard the noise, and smelled the boiling molasses,
and knew that Mary would be cross when she came home and found the
kitchen in a mess. "How can Maurice stand such childishness!" She lay
there with a cologne-soaked handkerchief on her forehead, and sighed
with pain. "Why _doesn't_ he stop them?" she thought. She heard his
shout of laughter, and Edith's screaming giggle, and moved her head to
find a cool place on the pillow. "She's too old to romp with him."
Suddenly she sat up, tense and listening; he was enjoying himself--and
she was suffering! "If he had a headache, I would sit with him; I
wouldn't leave him alone!" But she was sick in bed,--and he was having a
good time--_with Edith_. Her resentment was not exactly jealousy; it was
fear; the same fear she had felt when Maurice had told her how Edith
had rushed into his room the night of the great storm, _th