“He’s all right, you understand,” Mrs Varian had said,—Betty not being then present,—“but he’s too fond of my daughter. You can tell,—you know,—and I want the child to have a good time, but I want her to have a lot of young acquaintances, and be friendly with all, but not specially interested in any one. Her father feels the same way,—in fact, he feels more strongly about it even than I do. So, this time, please leave Mr Granniss out of it.” This was all plausible enough, and no real disparagement to Rodney, so Mrs Blackwood agreed. “Can I do anything for you?” she asked her hostess at parting. “Have you everything you want? Are your servants satisfactory?” “Not in every respect,”—Mrs Varian frowned. “But we’re lucky to keep them at all. Only by the most outrageous concessions, I assure you. If they get too overbearing, I may have to let some of them go.” “Let me know, in that case, and I may be able to help you,” and with a few further amenities, Claire Blackwood went away. “But if I were one of her servants I shouldn’t stay with her!” she confided later to a trusted friend. “I never saw a more foolishly emotional woman. She almost wept when she told me about her cook’s ingratitude! As if any one looked for appreciation of favors in a cook! And when she talked about Betty, she bubbled over with such enthusiasm that she was again moved to tears! It seems her first two little ones died very young, and I think they’ve always feared they mightn’t raise Betty. Hence the spoiling process.” “And it also explains,” observed the interested friend, “why the parents discountenance the attentions of would-be swains.” “Of course,—but Betty is twenty, and that is surely old enough to begin to think about such things seriously.” “For the girl,—yes. And doubtless she does. But parents never realize that their infants are growing up. It is not impossible that Rod Granniss and Miss Betty have progressed much further along the road to Arcady than her elders may suspect. Why did the Varians come here,—where Rod is?” “I don’t suppose they knew it,—though, maybe Betty did. Young people are pretty sharp. And you know, Rod was here in June, then he went away and only returned after the Varians arrived. Yes, there must have been some sort of collusion on the part of the youngsters.” “Maybe not. I daresay Miss Betty has lots of admirers as devoted as young Granniss. Can’t you ask me to the picnic?” “Not this one. It’s very small. And there are to be some guests at the house, I believe. The family interests me. They are types, I think. Betty is more than an ordinary flutterbudget, like most of the very young girls around here. And the older Varians are really worth while. Mr Varian is a brooding, self-contained sort,—I feel sorry for him.” “There, there, that will do, Claire! When you feel sorry for a man—I remember you began by being sorry for Lawrence North!” “I’m sorry for him still. He’s a big man,—in a way, a genius,—and yet he——”