Her eyes wandered to the table near by where lay the chief cause of her distraction--the book--the one resented gift from a friend. As yet, she had not even unwrapped it. A peculiar feeling made her decide to leave it untouched until her husband's anger had passed. Howard had shown no signs of relenting. Not a word had he written since his return to New York. Her check was sent as usual--that was all. Money! That was all he seemed to think that she needed! She tried to regard him kindly. She tried to be generous. She failed. Mr. Holt had gone. His influence was withdrawn. In his place had come George--noble George, for whom her heart beat wildly. Yes, she acknowledged it to herself. Now that it was too late, she knew the error that she had made. When free, she had refused his love. Now that it was a sin to acknowledge his supremacy over her heart, she was forced to realize it most painfully. Mr. Holt's goodness had temporarily lifted her above her sinful longings, even; he had brought her to a state of mind where she really desired to love Howard in the same old easy way that she had always cared for him. But now her good angel had left her side--just at the time that she most needed him and his help, and the influx of passionate longing and regret for the unconquerable past was overpowering. How weak she was! Had she fallen from all her highest ideas of right! She tried to pray, but her lips were as dumb as her heart. Suddenly, she arose and straightened herself in stern resolve. Heart and mind were aroused in a desperate determination to overcome. She left her retirement and sought the porch, there to await the rest of the party. Though she was not the girl of bloom that she had been on her husband's arrival, her health was assuredly regained in spite of Alma's anxious fears. She espied Harold first, coming toward the house with an armful of branches. "Just the kind that you can make dandy, white whips with," he informed Edith as he neared the porch. Coming up the steps, he threw the whole bunch down at her feet. "That will be enough, I guess. Where's cousin George? He promised to make them for me." Edith stroked his curly head gently. "Your cousin is taking a walk with your mother. Come sit with me awhile." Harold eyed her with boyish frankness. "I'd rather get cousin. You can't make those, you know. I'll find them pretty quick, all righty!" Just as he turned to go, Edith espied George and Alma appearing to view. "There they are, Harold!" she said brightly. "Bully!" exclaimed Harold, and with eyes dancing with delight, he ran down the path to meet them. George saw the boy coming. He held out his hand as usual, but his face remained set and stern. Alma was flushed and excited. Neither expressions did the child notice. "Just going to hunt for you," he cried boyishly. "Lots of whips for you to make, Cousin George! Whole heap!" Alma looked toward George, anxiously. "Cousin George doesn't feel like being bothered, dear."