"And me one of the most delightful mornings I ever enjoyed," he added, interrupting her. "You were in league with your wood fire. The garish sunshine of a warm day robs a house of all cosiness and snugness. Instead of being depressed by the storm and permitting others to be dull, you have the art of making the clouds your foil." "Possibly I may appear to some advantage against such a dismal background," she admitted. "My meaning is interpreted by my unconscionably long visit. I now must reluctantly retreat into the dismal background." "A rather well-covered retreat, as papa might say, but you will need your umbrella all the same;" for he, in looking back at the archly smiling girl, had neglected to open it. "I am glad it is not a final retreat," he called back. "I shall return this evening reinforced by my aunt." "Well," exclaimed that lady when he appeared before her, "lunch has been waiting ten minutes or more." "I feared as much," he replied, shaking his head ruefully. "What kept you?" "Miss St. John." "Not the major? I thought you went to entertain him?" "So I did, but man proposes--" "Oh, not yet, I hope," cried the old lady with assumed dismay. "I thought you promised to do nothing rash." "You are more precipitate than I have been. All that I propose is to enjoy my vacation and the society of your charming friend." "The major?" she suggested. "A natural error on your part, for I perceived he was very gallant to you. After your remarks, however, you cannot think it strange that I found the daughter more interesting--so interesting indeed that I have kept you waiting for lunch. I'll not repeat the offence any oftener than I can help. At the same time I find that I have not lost my appetite, or anything else that I am aware of." "How did Grace appear?" his aunt asked as they sat down to lunch. "Like myself." "Then not like any one else you know?" "We agree here perfectly." "You have no fear?"