"Oh," he said, blankly. "He's coming out to supper?" He stared into the fire for a while; then he got on his feet. "I must start," he said, and stood looking down at her. "Fred," he said, suddenly--in the uncertain firelight his face seemed to quiver--"you're a good fellow. And if your husband, when you get him, isn't the finest thing that ever happened, I'll punch his head!" His voice was so moved that she, sitting on her little stool, close to the hearth, looked up at him, quickly. "Why, he's _fond_ of me!" she thought. Her own deep experience made her heart open into generous acceptance of any human affection. She jumped up and put both impulsive hands into his. "You are the dearest friend I have!" she said; then hesitated, laughed--and kissed him. Her lips against his cheek were softly cool, like the touch of flowers. Nothing that she had ever said or done removed her more completely from the possibility of passion. He was able, however, to make a grandfatherly rejoinder to the effect that he had dandled her on his knee when she was a brat--which was not strictly true, for he had had no inclination to dandle the gawky fourteen-year-old Freddy Payton on knees that were bent before the cruel Kate. He put a friendly--but shrinking--hand on her shoulder as she went with him to the front door, and a minute later waved good night from his car. As he drove home in a bothering white fog from the lake, he was very unhappy. "It hurts more than I supposed it could," he told himself. "I don't like this kind of 'amusement!' Damn it, I wish she hadn't kissed me." As for Frederica, going back into the cottage, her eyes were very kind. "He's an old dear to bother with me; I'm awfully fond of him." Then she forgot him. "Twenty-four hours more," she was thinking, "and Howard will be here!" Twenty-four hours seemed a long time! She was glad when the moment came to blow out the candles and look into the other room to say good night; ("only twenty hours now!"). Flora, at the kitchen table, was listlessly shuffling a pack of cards by the light of a little kerosene-lamp; as Fred entered, she dropped her head in her hands and sighed. Frederica sighed, too. "I suppose I've got to cheer her up," she thought, resignedly. "What's the matter?" she said, kindly. "Nothin'." "Come in the other room and I'll play for you." Flora shook a dreary head. Fred, with a shrug of impatience, sat down at the other end of the table. The fire in the stove was out and the kitchen was cold and damp; except for the lisping wash of the lake and the faint fall of Flora's cards, everything was very still. Fred watched the cards for a moment without speaking, then abruptly brushed them all aside and clapped her warm young hand on Flora's thin wrist. The movement made the lamp flicker, and on the opposite wall two shadowy heads nodded at each other. "Now, Flora," she said, "we'll have this out! What _is_ the matter?" "I tell you, Miss Freddy, there ain't nothin' the matter."