"You maybe didn't see it. It was plain to me. They two were very fond of each other. Yes, indeed!" "My niece _fond_ of a boy?" gasped the spinster, bridling. "Why! were ye not just now speakin' of such a possibeelity?" demanded the housekeeper, and in her surprise, dropping for the moment into broad Scotch. "And they are baith of them old enough tae be thinkin' of matin'. Yes!" Aunt Sarah still stared in amazement. "Can it be _that_ that seems to have changed Ruth so?" she asked at last. "You've noticed it?" cried the Scotchwoman. "Yes. As you have suggested, she seems down-hearted. But why--" "There's something that went wrong. 'Love's young dream,' as they say, is having a partial eclipse, so it is! I see no letters comin' from that college where the laddie has gone." "But she hears from Cecile Shepard," said Aunt Sarah. "She reads me extracts from Cecile's letters. A very lively and pleasant girl is Cecile." "So she is," admitted the housekeeper. "But I'm a sight more interested in the laddie. Why doesn't he write?" "Why--er--would that be quite the thing, Mrs. MacCall?" asked Aunt Sarah, momentarily losing much of her grimness and seemingly somewhat fluttered by this discussion of Ruth's affair. "'Twould be almost necessary, Miss Maltby, I can tell you, if he was a laddie of mine," declared the Scotchwoman vigorously. "I'd no have a sweetheart that was either tongue-tied or unable to write." "Oh, but you take too much for granted," cried Aunt Sarah. "My observation tells me the two of them are fair lost on each other. I watched 'em while young Shepard was here. It's true they are young; but they'll never be younger, and it's the young lovin' and matin' was made for--not for old bodies." "You--you quite surprise me," said Aunt Sarah. "You'd best get over your surprise, Miss Maltby," said the very practical housekeeper. "You should have your eyes opened. You should see them together again." "Why not?" demanded Aunt Sarah, suddenly. "Why not what?" "Let the children have Cecile and her brother here for over Sunday--for a week end. Let them give a little party. I am sure I loved parties when I was a young girl and lived at this Corner House, when mother was alive." "It's a good idea," said the housekeeper. "I'll make some layer cakes for the party. We'll not need to go to the expense of a caterer--" She would have gone on immediately planning for the affair had she not, on glancing through the window, seen the dog catchers' green van rattling over the crossing of Main Street. "There's those dog catchers!" she exclaimed. "I wonder if Tom Jonah's safe. There are some children running and crying after it--they've lost a pet I've no doubt." Then suddenly she sprang to her feet. "Miss Maltby!" she cried. "'Tis our Tess and Dot--and Sammy Pinkney, the little scamp! It must be either his bulldog or old Tom Jonah those pestilent men have caught."