"I'm afraid I'm making you a great deal of trouble," she remarked apologetically. "No." "Perhaps you haven't any eggs to spare." Mary did not reply to the words; instead she continued to look with bewilderment at the girl on the doorstep. "Did Miss Webster send you?" she at last inquired. Lucy laughed. "No, indeed," she answered. "She didn't even know I was coming. You see, I only arrived from Arizona last night. I've come to live with my aunt. We didn't seem to agree very well about breakfast this morning so I----" "Oh!" The explanation was pregnant with understanding. "I just thought I'd feel more independent if I----" A swish of skirts cut short the sentence, and in another moment all three of the Howe sisters were framed in the doorway. Although a certain family resemblance was characteristic of them, they looked little alike. Eliza, it was true, was less angular than Mary and lacked her firmness of mouth and chin; but nevertheless the Howe stamp was upon her black hair, heavy, bushy brows, and noble cast of forehead. It was Jane's face, touched by a humor the others could not boast, that instantly arrested Lucy's attention. It was a fine, almost classic countenance which bespoke high thinking and a respect for its own soul. The eyes were gray and kindly, and in contrast to the undisguised dismay of her sisters, Jane's attitude was one of unruffled composure. "You want some eggs?" she began with directness. "If you can spare a dozen." "I reckon we can." "Now, Jane----" interrupted Mary nervously. "Do be careful, Jane," chimed in Eliza. "I have a right to----" but the resolute Jane was not permitted to finish her declaration. "Martin won't----" interpolated Mary. "You know Martin will be dretful put out," protested Eliza at the same instant. "I can't help it if he is," asserted Jane impatiently. "I ain't obliged to think as he does, am I?" "He'll be--oh, Jane!" Eliza implored. "I'll take all the blame." "I don't know what he'll say," pleaded Mary. "Well, I'm going to get the eggs, anyhow," announced Jane, cutting short further argument by moving away. During this enigmatic dialogue, Lucy's mystified gaze traveled from the face of one woman to that of another. What was it all about? And who was this Martin that he should inspire such terror? "I'm afraid," she called to the retreating Jane, "you'd rather not----" "It's all right, my dear," replied Jane cordially. "We're glad to let you have the eggs. I'll get them right away. It won't take me a second." She disappeared behind the paneled door at the end of the hall, and presently Mary and Eliza, who had loitered irresolutely, uncertain whether to go or stay, followed her. Left to herself, Lucy looked idly across the sunny landscape. Against the sky line at the top of the hill she could see a tall, masculine figure delving in the garden. "That must be Martin-the-Terrible," she observed. "He doesn't look like such an ogre."