re in the State. He was thrillingly
independent and ambitious and assured. All that seemed admirable,
but--if only he hadn't decided on groceries! "Peters' Grocery Store!"
Missy thought of jousting, of hawking, of harping, customs which noble
gentlemen used to follow, and sighed.

But Raleigh, unaware that his suit had been lost before it started,
accompanied them all home. "All" because the dark and imperiously
handsome young man went along, too. His name was Mr. Saunders, and Missy
had now learned he was a "travelling man" who came to Pleasanton to sell
Uncle Charlie merchandise; he was also quite a friend of the family's,
she gathered, and visited them at the house.

When they reached home, Mr. Saunders suggested stopping in a minute to
see how Uncle Charlie was. However, Uncle Charlie, it turned out, was
already in bed.

"But you needn't go yet, anyway," said Aunt Isabel. "It's heavenly out
here on the porch."

"Doesn't the hour wax late?" demurred Mr. Saunders. "Wax late!"--What
quaint, delightful language he used!

"Oh, it's still early. Stay a while, and help shake off the atmosphere
of the festival--those festivals bore me to death!"

Odd how women can act one way while they're feeling another way!
Missy had supposed, at the festival, that Aunt Isabel was having a
particularly enjoyable time.

"Stay and let's have some music," Aunt Isabel went on. "You left your
ukelele here last week."

So the handsome Mr. Saunders played the ukelele!--How wonderfully that
suited his type. And it was just the kind of moonlight night for music.
Missy rejoiced when Mr. Saunders decided to stay, and Aunt Isabel went
in the house for the ukelele. It was heavenly when Mr. Saunders began to
play and sing. The others had seated themselves in porch chairs, but he
chose a place on the top step, his head thrown back against a pillar,
and the moon shining full on his dark, imperious face. His bold eyes now
gazed dreamily into distance as, in a golden tenor that seemed to melt
into the moonlight itself, he sang:

"They plucked the stars out of the blue, dear, Gave them to you, dear,
For eyes... "

The ukelele under his fingers thrummed out a soft, vibrant, melancholy
accompaniment. It was divine! Here surely was a "harper passing all
other!" Mr. Saunders looked something like a knight, too--all but his
costume. He was so tall and dark and handsome; and his dark eyes were
bold, though now so soft from his own music.

The musi