"Good-morning, Cora," he said politely, and while she stared, in suspicious surprise, he passed her a plate of toast with ostentatious courtesy; but before she could take one of the slices, "Wait," he said; "it's very nice toast, but I'm afraid it isn't hot. I'll take it to the kitchen and have it warmed for you." And he took the plate and went out, walking softly. Cora turned to her mother, appalled. "He'll be sick!" she said. Mrs. Madison shook her head and smiled sadly. "He helped to wait on all of us: he must have been doing something awful." "More likely he wants permission to do something awful." Laura looked out of the window. "There, Cora," said Hedrick kindly, when he brought the toast; "you'll find that nice and hot." She regarded him steadfastly, but with modesty he avoided her eye. "You wouldn't make such a radical change in your nature, Hedrick," she said, with a puzzled frown, "just to get out of going to church, would you?" "I don't want to get out of going to church," he said. He gulped slightly. "I like church." And church-time found him marching decorously beside his father, the three ladies forming a rear rank; a small company in the very thin procession of fanning women and mopping men whose destination was the gray stone church at the foot of Corliss Street. The locusts railed overhead: Hedrick looked neither to the right nor to the left. They passed a club, of which a lower window was vacated simultaneously with their coming into view; and a small but ornate figure in pale gray crash hurried down the steps and attached itself to the second row of Madisons. "Good-morning," said Mr. Wade Trumble. "Thought I'd take a look-in at church this morning myself." Care of this encumbrance was usually expected of Laura and Mrs. Madison, but to their surprise Cora offered a sprightly rejoinder and presently dropped behind them with Mr. Trumble. Mr. Trumble was also surprised and, as naively, pleased. "What's happened?" he asked with cheerful frankness. "You haven't given me a chance to talk to you for a long while." "Haven't I?" she smiled enigmatically. "I don't think you've tried very hard." This was too careless; it did not quite serve, even for Trumble. "What's up?" he asked, not without shrewdness. "Is Richard Lindley out of town?" "I don't know." "I see. Perhaps it's this new chap, Corliss? Has he left?" "What nonsense! What have they got to do with my being nice to you?" She gave him a dangerous smile, and it wrought upon him visibly. "Don't you ever be nice to me unless you mean it," he said feebly. Cora looked grave and sweet; she seemed mysteriously moved. "I never do anything I don't mean," she said in a low voice which thrilled the little man. This was machine-work, easy and accurate. "Cora----" he began, breathlessly. "There!" she exclaimed, shifting on the instant to a lively brusqueness. "That's enough for you just _now_. We're on our way to church!" Trumble felt almost that she had accepted him.