"I don't believe she's up yet," replied Miss Martha. "She went to her room at the same time I did, and she certainly did look tired out. I begged her to show common sense and not run around so incessantly. I told her to lie down and not move until she was rested. Foolish child! She's so in love with this place she seems to think she's wasting time unless she's on the keen jump from morning until night." "Wouldn't it rest her to come with us?" asked Dunham. "We're going to the Fir Ledges to read." "Well, I don't know,"--Miss Lacey tossed her head doubtfully,--"it's quite a walk down there, and her door is tight shut." John looked at Edna. "I suppose the kindest thing to do would be to let her alone," said Edna. "When she comes down. Miss Martha, please tell her where we are, and ask her to join us. Perhaps she can bring you and Judge Trent with her. I see he is still motionless in that hammock." "Yes, tell her to be sure to come," said Dunham; and the two left the house and started off through the wood road. Edna did not regret her words to Sylvia, but she could not help connecting them with Miss Lacey's description of the girl's fagged appearance. So temperamental a creature as Sylvia would be prone to exaggerate a situation. Very well, Edna would take the earliest opportunity--bedtime this evening--for an open talk with her. Perhaps it was the excitement of having given John that which she had prepared for him which had left her pale by the time her aunt met her,--that and the sudden realization that her hostess understood her motives and actions. What a mercy that big, blundering, honest John Dunham had not connected himself with Sylvia's fantasies, although his joking had fitted in so well with her plans! In the absence of other interests, and the idleness of pleasant hours, John had shown considerable interest in Sylvia. Edna had on several occasions resented the trifling signs of his admiration, fearing they might mislead so inexperienced a girl as her guest, even supposing the girl were not already making a hero of him, and bent upon his subjugation. The thoughts of the pair were running along parallel lines as they pursued the woodland path, and at last John came to himself. "Pardon my stupidity, Edna. Sylvia says it's a great proof of friendship for two people to be silent when together." "Especially if they tell their thoughts afterward," rejoined the girl. "What were yours?" Dunham hesitated a moment. "I was thinking it was a pity if Miss Sylvia has overtired herself." "And I," said Edna, "was thinking it was a pity for you to pursue even a mild flirtation with her. She hasn't met many men of your stamp,--she is only a grown-up child, as you have seen." "I don't know," replied John deliberately. "I'm making up my mind slowly but surely that she is a jewel."