"Yes, that's what I came for," said Lorenzo, cheerfully, "cookies, jelly-roll,--anything simple and handy. Madeleine and I were out walking, discussing our affairs, and when I stopped for the garden, she went on for her mail. I'm awfully hungry." "People say you're engaged to her," said Susan. Jane turned to get the tin of cookies. "Yes, naturally. People say so much. She is a pretty girl, isn't she?--but then there's Emily Mead. I must look at myself on all sides and consider carefully. Old Mr. Cattermole took me to drive yesterday and told me that he was healthy and his dead wife was healthy and that, except for what killed him, Mr. Mead was healthy, too; and there was Emily, perfectly healthy and the only grandchild, and why didn't I come over often,--it wasn't but a step." "Well, you do beat all," said Susan. Jane offered the tin of cookies. Lorenzo took six. They were all laughing. Later, when he'd gone away, Susan said, almost shyly this time: "Jane, I don't want to interfere, but he _is_ in love." "With Madeleine?" "With you." "Auntie," Jane came to her side, "you mustn't speak in that way about me. I can't marry,--not possibly. I'm a Sunshine Nurse, and I shall be a Sunshine Nurse till I die. I'll make homes happy, but I shall never have one of my own." Susan looked frightened and timid. "But why?" "For many reasons. And all good ones." There was that in the young girl's tone that ended the subject for the time being. But Susan thought of it a great deal, and alone in her room that night, Jane thought, too. She had made herself ready for bed, and then sat down by the window, clasping her hands on the sill. Lorenzo Rath was buoyantly dear and jolly, and she realized that he was the nicest man that she had ever met. It had all been fun, great fun, and she had enjoyed it mightily. But with all her learning Jane was not so very much farther along the Highway to Happiness than some others. In many cases she was only a holder of keys as yet--the distinct knowledge to be gained by unlocking secrets with their aid was as yet not hers. To hold the keys and look at the doors is to realize what power means,--but to unlock is to use it. Jane was still a novice; she left the doors locked and was content to hold the keys, and no more. The next night Lorenzo appeared again. "I'm half-dead," he said. "I've tramped twelve miles, sketching." "Dear, dear," said Susan, "seems like nobody in this world ever wants what's close to." "Sometimes it's no use to want what's close to," said Lorenzo, "or else what's close to is like Emily Mead, and you just ache to run." "Emily Mead is a very nice girl," said Jane, in a tone clearly reproachful. Lorenzo just laughed. But then Susan made some excuse to slip away. "I wonder if you'd help me a little," he said then, hesitating a bit. "Is it something that I can do? Of course I'll help you if I can." "It's something very necessary." "Necessary?" "To my welfare and happiness." "What is it?"