The General seemed a bit sad as he watched the young people in their frolics. He was facing a long separation from his grandson: the old home was going to be very lonely without him. Many times he had wished that Boyd Trent's record would permit of his bringing _him_ back again, but fresh grievances had followed in Boyd's wake, and reports of him were disappointing in the extreme. And yet the General was happy--very happy. Alec's health had been restored, and he had his appointment; two things for which the General was devoutly thankful. Sunday there was the service in the little church. Blue Bonnet did not have to be urged to go as on that first occasion. She and Carita were dressed and waiting when Denham drove round, exactly at a quarter before eleven, as he had been in the habit of doing for almost a quarter of a century. "That was a very nice sermon," Blue Bonnet remarked on the way home. "I think Doctor Blake is growing. Don't you, Aunt Lucinda?" Miss Clyde smiled. "Or Blue Bonnet is," she said quickly. "Perhaps that is it, Aunt Lucinda. Anyway he's more interesting." * * * * * It was five o'clock on the Friday afternoon that Blue Bonnet and Carita had left for Woodford, that Joy Cross entered the room which she and Blue Bonnet occupied jointly. She glanced about, a look closely akin to joy lighting her plain features. Joy Cross was a recluse by nature, and the thought of having the room solely to herself for three days gave her infinite pleasure. She laid an armful of books on the table by the window, then drew up a comfortable chair and sat for awhile looking out into the gathering twilight. The pleased expression which she had worn when she entered the room gradually died from her face, and in its place came one of discontent. Between Blue Bonnet Ashe and Joy Cross there was no love lost. They disliked each other with the utmost cordiality. Blue Bonnet disliked Joy on general principles--possibly because she could not approach her, understand her; and Joy disliked Blue Bonnet because Blue Bonnet stood for everything that she herself wanted to stand for, and couldn't. This evening as she sat looking out into the dusk, her figure, usually so apathetic and lifeless, took on an animated line, and stiffened into something that suggested a smothered, half-dead temperament breathing into life. She took her arms from the back of her neck, where they had been supporting her head, and digging her elbows into her knees made a place for her chin to rest in the palms of her hands. She sat this way for a long time, thinking, and her thoughts, for the most part, were occupied with her room-mate.