"Waiting for Vivian. And I am busy, confound him.... Not too busy, as you see, to take a kind interest in your welfare--" "Oh!... Is Dr. Vivian _there_--at the Masons'? Why, what are _you_ waiting for him for?" "Seems to me you ask a good many questions for an idler." He stood on the sidewalk, looking up at her with his hawk-eyes, a man yet in the early thirties, but of obvious power. "We're going to buy second-hand benches, if you must know," continued he. "He says he can show me where to get 'em cheap. Anything else?" "No-o--except ... How much will the benches cost? Perhaps I--might be able to contribute something--" "I don't want your old money," said Pond. "When are you going to be serious about serious things?" "I think now," said Cally ... "Only, you see, I don't know anything at all." "I'll teach you," said the Director. Cally, standing on the broad white slab before her own door, did not answer. Her glance had turned down the street: and at this moment there emerged from the Masons' door the tall figure of V. Vivian, the article-writer, who would never have to put anything in the papers about papa now. He saw her instantly, and over his somehow strange and old-fashioned face there broke a beautiful smile. He lifted his hat high, and, so holding it at height, posed as if for a picture, gave it something like a wave, as in double measure of greeting and good-will. A proper salutation from friend to friend; and the sunlight gleamed on his crisp fair hair.... Cally's return greeting was somewhat less finished. She gave the lame doctor one look of brilliant sweetness; and then she said to him, "Oh, how do you do?"--in a voice that he could not possibly have heard. Next she said, "Yes, I'll be at the meeting to-morrow," with her back turned squarely toward Mr. Pond. And then she opened her door and went in quite quickly, leaving the Director staring intently at a crack in the sidewalk.... Within, Cally perceived that she had acted rather unreasonably, missing the opportunity to tell Mr. V.V. that she desired to speak with him: but that, of course, was only because she had not wanted to interrupt and detain two busy men at their labors. The oversight, besides, was easily to be remedied; though she did not again send the clear call for Meeghan's. She decided to write a brief note instead, and did, asking her friend if he could come and give her his help about a matter--say at four o'clock that afternoon. The note was dispatched, not by old Moses this time, but by the hand of an urchin in a blue uniform, who was deep in "Lady Helen, the Fair Ghoul," as he bicycled, but apparently reached his destination in due course. And V. Vivian, once again, was not disobedient to the heavenly summons. XXXII Time's Jests, and now the Perfect Apology, to stand a Lifetime in Brick and Stone; concluding with a Little Scene, which she will remember while she lives.