The next day Jack Van Tassel came home. The first warning the Bryants had of his arrival was in hearing the familiar whistle of a scrap from Carmen, which was Jack’s particular call. Only Clover and her mother were at home, Mildred having chaperoned the younger children to a lawn party in the neighborhood. "It is Jack!" cried Clover before the footstep had reached the steps. She looked hopefully at her mother, who returned the significant gaze. "He wouldn’t whistle," continued the girl with soft eagerness, "if he weren’t—if he weren’t the same old Jack." "I hardly feel equal to seeing him to-day," said Mrs. Bryant tremulously. "You shall not, dear," was the hurried response, as Clover ran downstairs from her mother’s room where they had been sitting. She threw open the house door. "Clover herself," exclaimed the visitor, laughing with pleasure, and wringing her offered hand with painful cordiality. "I’m glad you’ve come at last," she answered; "and you don’t look sorry." "Not a bit of it," was the breezy answer. "Where are Mrs. Bryant and Mildred, and the small fry? I want to see everybody." "The girls and Frank will be inconsolable to miss your first call, but they’ve gone to a children’s party; and mother, I am sorry to say, isn’t able to see any one to-day." While the girl spoke, her eyes alternately met Jack’s with a sort of wistful gladness, and then fell away. Her face expressed the relief she felt to be thus standing and talking in friendly, easy fashion with her old schoolmate. "But come in and sit down," she added. "You did not come home at Christmas, so we have a whole year’s talking to do." "Let us talk in the boat, Clover. Sorry Mrs. Bryant isn’t well. I’ll call again when she can see me. It is just right for a sail. Don’t you want to come?" "Yes, indeed," returned the girl heartily. "I have had only one sail this summer. Let me go and get my hat, and say good-by to mother." She ran upstairs and presently returned. Not a trace of yesterday’s care appeared in her countenance as the two started out gayly on the road they had often traveled together. Hyde Park still bore traces of being a country village. The young people walked through fields of sweet clover and goldenrod, where now massive hotels and blocks of granite and glass uprear. Chatting and laughing, they hastened on toward the boat-house. "It is pleasant to be back, I declare," said Jack heartily, looking with affection over the billowy water, striped with greens and blues, which had been his boyhood’s playground. "Father says old friends are best, and I believe he is right." "Is he coming with us, this afternoon?" asked Clover half shyly. "Why no," replied her companion, looking at her with undisguised astonishment. "You don’t mean to say father has developed a taste for sailing while I have been off at the seat of learning?" "He always liked it very well, didn’t he?"