Laura Childs came into the quiet, fire-lit room like a little whirl of fresh wind. The young man, looming up behind her in the doorway, clean-shaven, square-jawed, honest-eyed, gave a sunshiny grin of general friendliness and said he hoped Mrs. Payton would forgive him for butting in, but Fred had told him to call for some book she wanted him to read, and the maid didn't know anything about it. "I thought perhaps she had left it with you," he said. Mrs. Payton, conscious, as were the other two, of having talked about the speaker only a minute before, expressed flurried and embarrassed concern. She was so sorry! She couldn't imagine where the book was! She got up, and fumbled among the _Flowers of Peace_. "You don't remember the title?" He shook his head. "Awfully sorry. I'm so stupid about all these deep books Fred's so keen on. Something about birth-rate and the higher education, I think." Mrs. Payton stiffened visibly. "I don't know of any such book," she said; then murmured, perfunctorily, that he must have a cup of tea. Again Mr. Maitland was sorry,--"dreadfully sorry,"--but he had to go. He went; and the two ladies looked at each other. "_Do_ you suppose he heard us?" "I don't believe he did!" "Nice chap," said Mr. Weston. On the way down-stairs the nice chap was telling Laura that he had caught on, the minute he got into that room, that it wasn't any social whirl, so he thought he'd better get out. "They're sitting on Freddy, I'm afraid," Laura said, soberly; "poor old Fred!" "Well, I put one over when I asked for that book! I bet even old Weston's never read it! Neither have I. But Fred can give us all cards and spades on sociology." "She's great," Laura agreed; "but the book isn't so awfully deep. Well, I'm going back to root for her!" She ran up to the sitting-room again, and demanded tea. Her face, under her big black hat, was like a rose, and her pleasant brown eyes glanced with all the sweet, good-natured indifference of kindly youth at the three troubled people about the tea-table. Somehow, quite unreasonably, their depression lightened for a moment.... "No! No sugar, Aunt Nelly." "Do you want to be as thin as I am, Miss Laura?" Arthur Weston remonstrated, watching her rub her cool cheek against her mother's, and kiss her aunt, and "hook" a sandwich from the tea-table. One had to smile at Laura; her mother smiled, even while she thought of the walk home, and realized, despairingly, that the car was coming--coming--and would be gone in a minute or two! "My dear, your father says all this fuss about exercise is perfect nonsense. Really, I think we'd better ride," she pleaded with the pretty creature, who was asking, ruthlessly, for lemon, which meant another delay.