"I don't know. Get away! Shoo! Cicely, do call your horrid dog away." And Phebe brandished a scalpel threateningly. "Here, Melchisedek, come here!" But Melchisedek, his paws planted on the hem of Phebe's skirt, was barking madly and making little lunges at something in her lap. "Get out! Ugh! Do go away! Cicely, call him!" Cicely stooped and caught up the wriggling little creature who protested loudly, as she tucked him under her arm. "Might I inquire what that choice morsel is, Phebe?" she asked disdainfully. "It's a chicken's gizzard," Phebe answered shortly. "Oh, and you were having a private lunch out here. Beg pardon for disturbing you." Cicely's eyes were dancing, and the dimples in her cheeks were at their deepest; but Phebe never looked up. "Poor little Melchisedek!" the girl went on. "Wouldn't his old Aunt Babe give him one little bittie piece? Well, it was too bad. Do you lunch out here from choice, Babe; or were you sent away from the table?" "Don't be silly, Cicely. Can't you see I am studying it?" "What for?" "To see how it's made." "Oh, then it's science, not hunger. It's all right, Melchisedek; she is learning things, not eating them. But what was it you said about Allyn?" "Nothing." "Please do say something, then. I want him." "Ask mother," Phebe said absently. "Oh-h, there now!" "What's the matter?" "Nothing, only it's tough. Do go on." "Gizzards generally are. If I can do you any little good turn in the way of table scraps, Babe, don't hesitate to mention it." And Cicely departed in search of Mrs. McAlister. "No," she said; "I mustn't stay. I only want Allyn." "I saw him go across the hill, just after lunch. He had a book with him, and you may find him reading, somewhere over there. Don't hurry." "Thank you; I must go." And she went away across the lawn. She found Allyn quite at the farther side of the grounds, lying in the tall June grass with his arms folded under his head. Face down beside him was a book; but his thoughts were elsewhere and quite apart from the great tree above him into which he was staring so fixedly. Instinctively he had chosen the most beautiful spot in the grounds where the land sloped away to the west, across a salt marsh all bright with greeny brown grasses, and onward into the open country beyond. At the north, a faint line of white smoke marked the path of a passing train; at the south could be seen a small blue patch of ocean. In the thick grass, Cicely's steps were noiseless, and Melchisedek considerately neglected to bark, so Allyn was unconscious of her approach. He started suddenly, as she dropped down at his side. "What do you want?" he asked gruffly. "You." "I'm busy." "You look it," she said merrily, as she pointed to the book against which Melchisedek had promptly braced his back while he searched for a missing burr that he had accumulated in the course of his rambles. "I wish you'd go away," he grumbled.