"Now, never mind; she's just a little bit tired and excited over this 'Amazon' thing," Mrs. Toland assured him cheerfully, "and she'll have a little talk with Mother by and by, and be her sweet self again by lunch time!" The little episode was promptly blotted out by the rising tide of laughter and conversation that was usual at breakfast. Miss Toland presently drifted into the study for some letter writing. Jim took a deep porch rocker, and carried off the morning papers. Richie, sitting at his father's left, squared about for one of the eager rambling talks of which he and his father never tired. The doctor's blue eyes twinkled over his theories of religion, science, history, poetry, and philosophy. Richie's lean, colourless face was bright with interest. Ted volunteered, as she often volunteered of late, to go for the mail, and sauntered off under a red parasol, and Mrs. Toland slipped from the table just in time to waylay her oldest son in the hall. "Not going to catch the 9:40, Ned?" she asked. "Sure pop I am!" He was sorry to be caught, and she saw it under his bluff, pleasant manner. "You couldn't take the 10:20 with Dad and Jim?" "I've got to meet Reynolds at half-past ten, Mother," the boy said patiently. "Reynolds!" she frowned. "Don't like my fine big boy to have friends like that--" His eyes warned her. "Friends that aren't as fine and dear and good as he is!" she finished, her hands on his shoulders. "Reynolds is all right," said Ned, bored, and looking coldly beyond her. "And you'll be home for dinner, Ned?" "Sure! Unless the Orpheum should be awfully long. In that case we may get a bite somewhere." "Try to be home for dinner," persisted the mother. And, as if to warrant the claim on his consideration, she added: "I paid the Cutter bill myself, dear, and Dad will pay Jordan next month. I didn't say anything about Cutter, but he begged me to make you _feel_ how wrong it is to let these things run. You have a splendid allowance, Ned," she was almost apologetic, "and there's no necessity of running over it, dear!" "Sure. I'm not going to do that again," Ned said gruffly, uncomfortably. "That's right, dear! And you will--you'll try to be home for dinner?" "Sure I'll try!" and Ned was gone, down through the roses and through the green gate. Mrs. Toland watched him out of sight. Then she trotted off to Hee's domain. Sally straggled out into the garden, with Janey and Constance and the small boy following after. There was great distress because the little girls were all for tennis, and Keith Borroughs frankly admitted that he hated tennis.