And having settled that to his satisfaction, Martin turned resolutely to what threatened Doris and Nancy. He meant to see fair play. Doris could be depended upon for a few strenuous months if her friends turned to and helped her as they should. Nancy must no longer be sacrificed! "If there is any sense in this tomfoolery about Joan," Martin mused, "it must apply to Nancy also." Martin was extremely fond of Nancy. He often wished she would not lean so heavily, but then his spiritual ideal of a woman was after Nancy's design. Of Joan he disapproved, and Doris was a type apart. "If we can marry Nancy off," plotted Martin--and he had his mind's eye on his nephew--"I'll bring Sister on from the West and get Doris to share Ridge House with us. Queer combination, but safe!" And then he saw, as in a vision, the peaceful years on ahead. He would hold Doris's hand down the westering way. Hold it close and warm; never looking for more than the blessed companionship. And his sister, happy and content, would share the way with them and Nancy's children--would they be Clive's also?--would gladden all their hearts. And Joan?--well, Martin did not feel that Joan needed his architectural aid--she was chopping and hacking her own design. At this point Martin sought Emily Tweksbury and bullied her into action. Mrs. Tweksbury had not unpacked her trunks yet and was sorely depressed about Raymond. "I wish I had stuck to Maine," she deplored, "and devoted myself to the boy. He looks like a fallen angel. "Ken, what have you been doing to yourself?" she had asked. "Just pegging away, Aunt Emily." "Ken," Mrs. Tweksbury had an awful habit of felling the obvious by a blow of her common-sense hatchet; "Ken, you've got to be married. You're not the kind to float around town and enjoy it--and you are the kind that would enjoy the other." "Oh! I'm having a bully time, Aunt Emily." "That's not true, Ken. Life lacks salt; you look the need of it and I blame myself for going abroad." "I'm glad you went!" fervently said Raymond. "You are, eh? Well, I'm not going again until you're safely married." At this Raymond found that he could laugh, and just then the hatchet fell, for Doctor Martin had entered the arena and Mrs. Tweksbury had agreed to help. "Do you remember my speaking of that niece of Miss Fletcher's last spring?" she asked. "Yes. I do recall it. Wasn't she to come here--or something like that?" "Yes, she was, but she isn't. Doris Fletcher has brought her girl up to town herself and the old house is opened. I called there the other day. Ken, that girl is the loveliest thing I ever saw!" "Is she?" Raymond was sitting on the edge of the table in Mrs. Tweksbury's dressing room. When she got through talking he was going to bed. He had to stifle a yawn. "Yes, she is. She's not only the prettiest girl I've seen for many a year, but she's _the girl_." "For what?" Raymond swung his lifted foot while he balanced with the other.