Having accepted this commission from a sense of his general uselessness, the mutilated man said good-night and went to his room. How carefully comfortable it had been made by loving bands! Even the telephone was there to console him.

So he telephoned a telegram:

Miss Coggeshall, Eglantine, Wickford, Conn.

Home and hungry. Do you know anybody who would invite Gratia and me to dinner?

No sooner had he sent it than he realized its misleading quality. He was hungry in the literal sense, not hungry for Gratia. Language was always spilling over like that. Take the idiotic names of the elements—names of towns, islands, countries, men, colors, goddesses, anything to conceal the one important thing, the number. Nitrogen did not give birth, phosphorus did not carry more light than vanadium, and vanadium was not the goddess of love.

What was a goddess, anyhow, and what was love? Being unable to define either of these obsolete expressions, Marvin went to sleep. The earth turned round and showed again one star that blotted out all the rest. But the electromagnetic sunlight did not awaken him. Nothing did that till the baser elements of his nature were touched—the smell of coffee tickling the tips of receptors in his nose.

He opened his eyes, and saw his beautiful mother standing there with a tray of breakfast.

She set down the tray and handed him a slip of paper which he perceived to be Miss Kate’s answer. It read, “She is here, attending her class reunion.”

“Mother, I hate to leave all this luxury, but I’m leaving at ten o’clock for Wickford, to ask Gratia to marry me. Her father does not especially approve of me. Should you object to her as a daughter?”

“My dearest, you know I wouldn’t. Give her my dearest love as soon as she accepts you.”

The day was sweet, and he spent most of it on the observation platform of the swift train. They ran through sun and shower. Now it was a bank of wild pale clover along the track, with nitrifying nodules on the roots and sweet volatile oils swept from every leaf by the cyclone on which he sat. Now it was a field of red clover with virgin bees stealing nectar or carrying male pollen to delicate cold tubes, while overhead the lightning fixed the nitrogen, and rain washed it down to the roots.

He was early to bed above the resonant wheels, but lay thinking about Asher Ferry. It was natural that Asher should object to him, and decent of Asher to be sorry for him, and decent of Asher to open the door and not have him thrown out. That yielding was a sign of strength, even if Asher was a poor judge of cloth. Good judge however of some other things. First man to see the possibilities of vanadium in farm machinery—owed a lot to the resulting lightness. Physically near-sighted, mentally far-sighted. Simple as a child in all that big house. Pacifist because so simple-minded. Suppose things had gone otherwise. Suppose Asher had smilingly consented, seen them married, given him a laboratory. Never thought of it before. Couldn’t have accepted anyhow. Wasn’t in love, never had been in love. What was love? Asked that question last night, got no answer, went to sleep—

And at this point, having been just to his enemy, Marvin slept the sleep of the just. Since thought is mostly a series of interruptions, he was interrupted. Since the sun was not pouring into his eyes, his triangular cells began to plump out their nuclei, ready to nerve him for the morrow. And many more such things happened to him, the which no man knoweth.

Next day he turned into the roseate enclosure as of old, and received the unsolicited kiss of the lady who had once cuffed him on the ear. He explained briefly that Asher Ferry had declined to invite him to dinner, perhaps because of the cut of his clothes.

“I see. But you look so pale, so thin, so manly—oh, my dear fellow, I’m sure she can’t resist. I’ll send her down immediately.”

Marvin stepped into his hired car and waited, while his inconsiderate heart thumped against his ribs.

In five minutes she appeared. She wore a blue dress and a close-fitting hat, and was entrancing to look at.

He sprang down to meet her, and she kissed him! This looked bad. Her months of silence had apparently blossomed into love.

He helped her into the car, and off they started as of old.

“Marvin, you look grand in your uniform.”

“Thank you, dear. You wore a uniform, too, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but it was very plain.”

“That’s a pretty dress you are wearing. What do you call it?”

“This? It’s just a cotton voile, and it’s out of date.”

Out of date or not, that silver blue clung to her slenderness, and the skirt of it had approximately a million pin-tucks. There was a white organdy sash about her dainty middle. A square white collar of the same stuff revealed the petally texture of her neck where it met her body in a sort of dimple.

“Why do you call it out of date?”

“The blue isn’t right. Girls are wearing a French blue now, to suggest the uniform of the French soldiers. And pin-tucks are quite out; deep folds are the right thing.”

“Well, Gratia, I don’t know one goods from another, but I can learn.”

She laughed. “Stay all night, and see me this evening in my Veronese green. Tomorrow I’ll put on my silk duvetyn because it matches my eyes. Can you guess the color?”

“Midnight blue.”

“Wrong. It’s gentian.”

“Gratia, you get your eyes from your father.”

“I know it, and it worries me a little. Do you suppose near-sightedness is hereditary?”

Something in her anxious tone made him think of Jimmy’s eyes. It gave him a ray of hope, but he dared not presume upon it.

“Gratia, I don’t know. But if there were myopia in my family and I feared my children would catch it, I’d consult the greatest living authority. I don’t feel called upon to name him. I am bound to remind you that the Mahans are not short sighted. They can see anything at a distance except field-guns.”

“Was it a field-gun that robbed you?”

“Yes, I was careless that morning.”

“Marvin, you had the finest left hand that ever was.”

“Does the loss of it make a difference?”

“Why, not much. You steer remarkably well, considering.”

“Thank you, dear. I can’t even tie my cravat or wash my hand without help.”

He brought the car to a halt at the top of the hill.

“This is where we left the road three years ago. Let’s go over and look at the thorn-apple again.”

“I’d a little rather not. You’ll want me to sit down, and the ground is too damp for this dress.”

“Gratia, you are cruel not to give me the right atmosphere for what I am going to say.”

“You don’t have to say it.”

“But I do. Gratia, will you please marry me?”

“I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.”

“Don’t you love me?”

“I can’t say that I do.”

“Have I offended you?”

“No. Do you love me?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then everything is all right. I’m glad it’s over.”

They continued their drive, and the sunshine seemed brighter.

“Marvin, your father was simply horrid to my father.”

“I know. By the way, it seems that all the trouble started with Jimmy. Tell me about him.”

“Why, father has invited him to dinner six times.”

“I suppose it’s a mark of favor when your father invites a man to dinner. I called on him in the hope of such a favor myself, but he opened the door and showed me out.”

“Father opened the door for you! He never did that for Jimmy. Did you tell him you wanted to marry me?”

“No.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Why, merely that I intended to ask you. Tell me more about Jimmy.”

“Well, father keeps raising his salary.”

“Fine! Jimmy is all wool and a yard wide.”

“Marvin—”

“Yes, dear.”

“Hogs are a yard wide, but they are not woolly.”

“Gratia, have I lived to hear you make a joke? I’ll act on the suggestion the minute I get back home. Jimmy shall change his name.”

“I don’t think you are very delicate.”

“Well, let’s be delicate. Let’s go and call on his mother.”

Gratia could not object, but when they approached the little orchard and saw the white shawl on the porch as of yore, she said she would wait in the car.

Marvin ran up the driveway, and kissed Susan Endicott Hogg before she could escape him. Susan however had caught sight of Gratia and was plainly furious. Never in her life had she so felt the need of controlling her temper. But she did control it. She welcomed her unwelcome guest. She told him he was a hero. He assured her that he was no such thing, but only a blind Bwan—a term that he had to explain. She listened to the details, but her mind was obviously on that lost daughter-in-law out in the car.

When the painful interview was over, Marvin carried his lost love back to Eglantine in the highest good humor. They made a stunning pair when they walked into Miss Coggeshall’s office.

Miss Kate looked up. Marvin stood with his arm around Gratia, and the pale gold of her beautiful hair was shadowed by the auburn above it.

“Am I to congratulate you?”

“Yes! We’re not going to get married.”