“I’ll go and see,” said Janice pleasantly, and she went to the dining room where the Reformed Prodigal sat reading the newspaper with his feet on the table—an action which convinced Lucinda that he had not reformed so very much after all. “Suppose you go to her—instead of me,” suggested the maid, pausing before the reader and usurping all the attention to which the paper should have laid claim. “Suppose I do,” said Jack, jumping up, “and suppose you stay away and let me try what I can accomplish single-handed.” “Only—” began Janice—and then she stopped and lifted a warning finger. Jack listened and a stealthy creak betrayed Lucinda’s proximity somewhere in the vicinity. It was plain to be seen that there were many issues to be kept in mind, and the young man grit his teeth because he didn’t dare embrace his betrothed, and then walked away in the direction of Aunt Mary’s room. If she was glad to see him! One would have supposed that ten years and two oceans had elapsed since their last meeting the month before. She fairly screamed with joy. “Jack!—You dear, dear, _dear_ boy! Well, if I ever did!—When did you come?” He was by the bed hugging her. “And how are they all? How _is_ the city? Oh, Jack, if I could only go back with you this time!” “Never mind, Aunt Mary; you’ll be coming soon—in the spring, you know.” Aunt Mary sank back on the pillows. “Jack,” she said, “if I have to wait for spring, I shall die. I ain’t strong enough to be able to bear livin’ in the country much longer. I’ve pretty much made up my mind to buy a house in town and just keep this place so’s to have somewhere to put Lucinda.” “Do you think you’d be happy in town, Aunt Mary?” Jack yelled; “I mean if you lived there right along?” “I don’t see how I could be anythin’ else. I don’t see how anyone could be anythin’ else. I want a nice house with a criss-cross iron gate in front of it an’ an automobile. An’—I don’t want you to say nothin’ about this to her jus’ yet—but I’m goin’ to keep Granite to look after everythin’ for me. I don’t ever mean to let Granite go again. Never. Not for one hour.” Jack smiled. He felt as if Fate was playing into his hands. “I want you to live with me,” Aunt Mary continued, “an’ I want the house big enough so’s Clover an’ Mitchell an’ Burnett can come whenever they feel like it and stay as long as they like. I don’t want any house except for us all together. Oh, my! Seems like I can’t hardly wait!” She leaned back and shut her eyes in a sort of impatient ecstasy of joys been and to be. Jack reached forward to get a cigarette from the box on the table at the bedside. “Do you smoke now, Aunt Mary?” he inquired, as he took a match. “No, Granite does.” “Janice does!” he repeated, quickly knitting his brows. “Yes, she does it for me—I’m so happy smellin’ the smell. They made her a little sick at first but she took camphor and now she don’t mind. Not much—not any.”