“Funny you should say that. I know just what you mean. It came over me in the night. I got looking back a lot, and I couldn’t help feeling, when he stood there talking to me in the old way—I couldn’t help feeling that he’d got his side after all. I dare say I didn’t quite understand his point of view, or how I looked from it. You’ve got to be fair, mother. It was as if all that fearful time, when we drifted apart, had been ruled out for the minute, and we were back at the starting place. I took all he said in a very proper and patient spirit; and if you ask him, he’ll tell you I did. And he didn’t mince words either. And I very much wish for you to see him as soon as you can, and tell him that I greatly value his advice, and that my eyes were opened for the first time to my fatal conduct. And, being a fair woman, I’ve got to admit that I used him badly, along of some weakness in myself I never knew was there; and I think he was more kind about it than I deserved. Please see he hears that.” “And what price, Jordan?” asked Mrs. Trivett. “This has nothing to do with Jordan. I’m going to see him now and explain that he must visit Ned at once; and I hope he’ll feel properly grateful to Ned for his goodness to me. He ought.” Lydia’s head swam. “Don’t you see, mother, that Ned is—?” “I don’t see nothing,” answered Mrs. Trivett. “This is all beyond me. You’re right to be obliged to him—well you may be; but, for God’s sake, don’t go blowing Ned’s trumpet to your future husband, else—” “I’m not going to be narrow-minded about Ned,” answered Medora calmly. “You can leave it to me. I shall certainly tell Jordan the way I was treated.” As a matter of fact, Medora had quite forgotten the way she had been treated. For reasons far beyond her power to explain—since it was her quality to avoid directness at any cost—she ignored and put out of her mind the very harsh things Mr. Dingle had said. She banished them, and chose rather to dwell on what she regarded as the spirit and general essence created by their meeting. Detail might be dismissed, and it was very characteristic of Medora that when, presently, she met Jordan in the dinner hour, and took him up the valley, and rested her eyes on the spot beside the lake where she had listened to Mr. Dingle, she created a suggestion of that interview for the benefit of Kellock amazingly unlike the real thing. The vatman ate his bread and cheese as he walked beside her and saw her on the way homeward to her own meal. “When are you coming back?” he asked. “I’ve got the lecture dead right now, and I’d like to run it over once more. I’ve learned the typewriter myself too, and can give you a start and a beating at it.” “It’s wonderful to me how you can fasten on a thing like that, while all my future hangs in the balance,” she said. “I’ve got a bit of startling news, Jordan. I ran on top of Mr. Dingle yesterday. I was just picking a bunch of flowers and wondering when something would happen when—there he was.”