"No," came Wythie's voice huskily from the depths of the pantry. "No, Lyddie, I don't want anything, except to see what we have in the house toward a luncheon-party to-morrow. Hester Baldwin is coming out from New York, bringing a young man cousin of hers whom we have never seen, so I want them to have something particularly nice. I thought we would take account of stock and plan our lunch, and that I would go down to-night to order what we needed before tea. Then I shall be here all the morning to help you with some of the fancy things that take time." "You might have lobster _à la_ Newburg," said Lydia, folding her paper and abandoning the principles which it had just taught her with a speed that finished Wythie's hopes of gravity. Her laugh rang out so infectiously that her mother, hearing it up-stairs, smiled in sympathy. "Isn't that appropriate?" said Lydia, standing rigid in displeasure. "We couldn't have anything better," cried Wythie emphatically. "That wasn't what I laughed at, Lyddie. And you make it so well that we are proud of your skill, aren't we?" "That's what made me mention it," said Lydia innocently. And Wythie just succeeded in checking a second laugh. But Lydia would never have guessed that Wythie laughed because the solemn girl beside her had lost sight of her principles and the wine in the lobster _à la_ Newburg at one and the same moment, oblivious to all but her newly acquired skill in making the delectable dish. Lydia had long ago abandoned all hope of understanding at what Wythie and Rob Grey laughed so often. She had decided that it was usually mere light-mindedness. CHAPTER TWO ITS GUESTS Rob walked up and down the platform of Fayre's small station waiting the train which was to bring her guests from New York to spend the day. It was a day that it seemed a pity to spend; it should have been laid by for the winter need of such weather, much as one would lay by a golden guinea against a dark day. And no guinea could have been more golden than this October day. The sunshine seemed to be filtered through its atmosphere till the very air was golden, and the trees sent their showers of yellow leaves down the shafts of sunshine in the brisk breeze, retaining more than they gave of their cloth-of-gold garments to brighten the quiet streets and illumine the hillsides. Hester Baldwin had been a frequent visitor to Fayre since Rob's expedition to New York to save her father's patent had brought her into Hester's orbit.