They did not have good luck, however, and growing restless and tired of fishing without catching, Martin brought them home by three o'clock, and as both he and Miss Lavinia had finished their preparations for leaving, they went out to the seat by the rose arbour to enjoy what was left of the glorious afternoon, for it has been one of those days that come in dreams, so perfect that one knows it cannot last. "I hope that I shall not lose all track of you this winter," said Miss Lavinia. "Of course you will be busy, but you might spare a lonely woman an evening now and then for piquet, or whist if Evan or the Doctor should come to town." "Lose track of you, Miss Lavinia,--how could that be possible?" queried Martin in mild-eyed astonishment. "You know there will be a second volume of the book for you to read and criticise, besides all the illustrations to discuss. No, I hoped that you could spare me two definite evenings every week, at least until the work is in press, though I suppose that is asking a great deal of a woman having so many friends, and places to go." "If you could see the way I spend my evenings alone, you would not hesitate. Of course I do dine out once in a time, and people come to me, but between times--I envy even Josephus, who can have social enjoyment any time by merely scratching on the door and running along the palings to the neighbours." "I am glad, for I decided upon taking the Washington Square rooms, instead of moving up nearer the Clubs as my friends advised, because I thought it would be so much more convenient if, in proof correcting, I should require to consult you hastily." Miss Lavinia felt a pleasurable flush rising to her cheeks, when it was chilled by the memory of her invitation to her cousin Lydia. Why had she given it? Then the realization that a third party would be unwelcome to her made the flush return and deepen. * * * * * "Uncle Martin, where is your Mrs.? Barbara said I'd have to ask you 'cause she didn't know," suddenly asked Ian's voice, so close behind them that they both started. He had been up in the attic to get some of his precious cards, one of which he now held in front of Martin Cortright's gaze. "My Mrs.! Why, what do you mean?" he asked in uncomprehending astonishment, taking the boy on his knee; but when the little scamp had explained, the stupidest person in the world could not plead ignorance. "And," Ian continued, "Dick and me thought that p'r'aps if your Mrs. and Aunt Lavinia's Mr. had got lost together we could find them for you, and then there'd be two more weddings with pink ice cream. We're going to look this afternoon, and we're going to ask Martha to help us, 'cause she found her Mr. after he'd been lost a great while, Effie says."