She missed the rattle and noise of New York. It was a little too tranquil in Fort Greene Place; yet, when she listened intently, through the city's old-fashioned hush, very far away the voices of the great seaport were always audible--a ceaseless harmony of river whistles, ferry-boats signalling on the East River, ferry-boats on the North River, perhaps some mellow, resonant blast from the bay, where an ocean liner was heading for the Narrows. Always the street's stillness held that singing murmur, vibrant with deep undertones from dock and river and the outer sea. Strange spicy odours, too, sometimes floated inland from the sugar wharves, miles away under the Heights, to mingle with the scent of lilac and iris in quiet, sunny backyards where whitewashed fences reflected the mid-day glare, and cats dozed in strategical positions on grape trellis and tin roofs of extensions, prepared for war or peace, as are all cats always, at all times. "Celia!" Celia Craig looked up tranquilly. "Has anybody darned Paige's stockings?" "No, she hasn't, Honey-bell. Paige and Marye must keep their stockings da'ned. I never could do anything fo' myse'f, and I won't have my daughters brought up he'pless." Ailsa glanced humorously across at her sister-in-law. "You sweet thing," she said, "you can do anything, and you know it!" "But I don't like to do anything any mo' than I did befo' I had to," laughed Celia Craig; and suddenly checked her mirth, listening with her pretty close-set ears. "That is the do'-bell," she remarked, "and I am not dressed." "It's almost too early for anybody to call," said Ailsa tranquilly. But she was wrong, and when, a moment later, the servant came to announce Mr. Berkley, Ailsa regarded her sister-in-law in pink consternation. "I did _not_ ask him," she said. "We scarcely exchanged a dozen words. He merely said he'd like to call--on you--and now he's done it, Celia!" Mrs. Craig calmly instructed the servant to say that they were at home, and the servant withdrew. "Do you approve his coming--this way--without anybody inviting him?" asked Ailsa uneasily. "Of co'se, Honey-bell. He is a Berkley. He should have paid his respects to us long ago." "It was for him to mention the relationship when I met him. He did not speak of it, Celia." "No, it was fo' you to speak of it first," said Celia Craig gently. "But you did not know that." "Why?" "There are reasons, Honey-bud." "What reasons?" "They are not yo' business, dear," said her sister-in-law quietly. Ailsa had already risen to examine herself in the mirror. Now she looked back over her shoulder and down into Celia's pretty eyes--eyes as unspoiled as her own.