e the bed--a radiant vision in pink organdy this
time--and saying:

"Wake up, sleepy-head! It's nearly six o'clock!"

Aunt Isabel, her vivacious self once more, with gentle fingers (Oh, hard
not to love Aunt Isabel!) helped Missy get dressed for supper.

It was still so hot that, at supper, everyone drank a lot of ice-tea and
ate a lot of ice-cream. Missy felt in a steam all over when they rose
from the table and went out to sit on the porch. It was very serene,
for all the sultriness, out on the porch; and Aunt Isabel was so sweet
toward Uncle Charlie that Missy felt her gathering suspicions had
something of the unreal quality of a nightmare. Aunt Isabel was reading
aloud to Uncle Charlie out of the Sunday paper. Beautiful! The sunset
was carrying away its gold like some bold knight with his captured,
streaming-tressed lady. The fitful breeze whispered in the rhythm of
olden ballads. Unseen church bells sent long-drawn cadences across the
evening hush. And the little stars quivered into being, to peer at the
young poignancy of feeling which cannot know what it contributes to the
world...

Everything was idyllic--that is, almost idyllic--till, suddenly Uncle
Charlie spoke:

"Isn't that Saunders coming up the street?"

Why, oh why, did Mr. Saunders have to come and spoil everything?

But poor Uncle Charlie seemed glad to see him--just as glad as Aunt
Isabel. Mr. Saunders sat up there amongst them, laughing and joking,
now and then directing one of his quaint, romantic-sounding phrases at
Missy. And she pretended to be pleased with him--indeed, she would have
liked Mr. Saunders under any other circumstances.

Presently he exclaimed:

"By my halidome, I'm hot! My kingdom for a long, tall ice-cream soda!"

And Uncle Charlie said:

"Well, why don't you go and get one? The drug store's just two blocks
around the corner."

"A happy suggestion," said Mr. Saunders. He turned to Aunt Isabel. "Will
you join me?"

"Indeed I will," she answered. "I'm stifling."

Then Mr. Saunders looked at Missy.

"And you, fair maid?"

Missy thought a cool soda would taste good.

At the drug store, the three of them sat on tall stools before the white
marble counter, and quaffed heavenly cold soda from high glasses in
silver-looking flaskets. "Poor Charlie! He likes soda, so," remarked
Aunt Isabel.

"Why not take him some?"

Missy didn't know you could do that, but the drug store man said it
would be all right.

Then the