Nearly a week had passed since Mrs. Merwent’s arrival at Rosedene and Jim had not visited the Winter home. This was an unprecedented length of time for him to stay away. “How is Mr. Sprague, your partner?” Nannie queried one evening at dinner. “Oh, he’s all right,” responded John, and then added, “Why he’s not been out since the day you came! I’ll ask him out to dinner tomorrow night. He’s no extra trouble.” Lucy was silent. “I’d like to get acquainted with him,” pursued Mrs. Merwent. “Of course if it’s too much work for Lucy----” “Why no,” answered John. “Lucy never has anything extra for Jim. Do you, Lucy? I want you to know him, Nannie. You’ll like him fine.” “Lucy hasn’t said anything,” persisted Nannie. “I think she’d rather not have anybody.” “No, it’s all right,” agreed Lucy. “Jim’s no extra trouble, ever.” The next morning John told Jim. “Nannie and Lucy want you for dinner,” John said. “You didn’t use to have to be asked. Why didn’t you come out before?” “I’ve been going over the books,” explained Jim. “We must raise our prices on those small houses. We don’t make anything on them at present figures.” That evening they took the train out to Rosedene together. When they arrived Lucy was in the kitchen and Mrs. Merwent met them at the door. “Are you tired?” she murmured solicitously as she kissed John’s cheek, then, smiling and extending her hand to Jim, “How do you do, Mr. Sprague? You’re quite a stranger. Lucy thought you had deserted us.” “No, I’ve been busy,” he replied, taking her hand and smiling in turn. When the three entered the dining room, Mrs. Merwent picked up two _boutonnières_ from the table and pinned first one on Jim’s coat lapel, and then the other on John’s. “Thank you, Mrs. Merwent,” said Jim. John patted her shoulder. “Why, how sweet of you, Nannie!” he exclaimed. At this juncture Dimmie rushed in and, throwing himself headlong into Jim’s outstretched arms, yelled delightedly, “Uncle Jim, Uncle Jim, the cat’s got kittens!” “Why how boisterous you are, Jimmie.” Mrs. Merwent spoke reprovingly. (She never called him “Dimmie.”) “Yes,” said John. “You make too much noise, Dimmie.” “He’s all right. I’m used to him,” put in Jim. He realized as he spoke that never before had he interfered in the child’s training. “Well, if you like it.” Mrs. Merwent smiled. “I’m afraid you spoil him, Mr. Sprague,” she added. Jim lifted Dimmie to his shoulder and went off to inspect the kittens. On the way they passed through the kitchen. “Hello, Lucy.” Jim held out his hand. “Heard you thought I’d deserted you.” “I can’t shake hands with you. My hands are all over flour,” she explained. “You know I never thought any such thing!” “Yes, I know,” he answered. Dimmie grew impatient. “It’ll get dark and you can’t see the kittens,” he complained. After Jim and Dimmie had left the dining room, Nannie, who was standing by the table, began to look about as if in search of something.