“The trouble is,” said Anthony Robeson, shifting his position on the step below Juliet so that he could rest his head against her knee, “the trouble is we’re getting too popular.”

Juliet laughed and ran her fingers through his thick locks, gently tweaking them. The two were alone together in the warm darkness of a July evening, upon their own little porch.

“It’s the first evening we’ve had to ourselves since the big snowdrift under the front windows melted. That was about the date Roger Barnes met Louis Lockwood here the first time. Ye gods—but they’ve kept each other’s footprints warm since then, haven’t they? And now Cathcart is giving indications of having contracted the fatal malady. Can’t Rachel Redding be incarcerated somewhere until the next moon is past? I notice they all have worse symptoms each third quarter. That girl looks innocent, but—by heaven, Julie, I think she has it down fine.”

“No, you don’t,” said Juliet persuasively. “I should catch her at it if she were deliberately trying to keep two such men as Roger and Louis pitted against each other. They’re doing it all themselves. I’ve known her to run away when she saw one of them coming—so that she couldn’t be found. But, Tony dear, I’ve a plan.”

“Good. I hope it’s a duel between the two principals. If it is I’m going to tamper with the weapons and see that each injures himself past help. I’m getting a little weary of playing the hospitable host to a trio of would-bes.”

“Listen. We’ll entertain them all at once for a week, with some extra girls, and Judith and Wayne, and then we’ll announce that we’re not at home for a month.”

“All at once—a house-party?” Anthony sat up and laughed uproariously. “I’ve tremendous faith in you, love, but where in the name of all the French sardines that ever were dovetailed would you put such a crowd?”

“I’ve a practical plan. Louis Lockwood belongs to a fishing club that spends every August up in Canada. They have a big tent, twenty by twenty-five, for he told me so the other day. He would get it for us; we would put it out in the orchard, close to the river. You and Wayne, and Roger and Louis, and Stevens Cathcart could sleep down there, and I could easily take care of Judith and Suzanne Gerard and Marie Dresser, here in the house. Rachel should stay here, too. And Auntie Dingley would send down Mary McKaim to cook for us, I’m sure.”

“That’s not so bad. But why Rachel—when you have so little room?”

“Because I want her to have all the fun; because if I don’t keep her here she will be running away half the time; and because——”

“Now comes the real reason,” observed Anthony sagely.

“I don’t want the other girls thinking she has the unfair advantage of taking a man away from the party every evening to walk down home with her.”

“Wise little chaperon. I can see Roger and Louis now, glaring at each other as the hour approaches for her departure.”

“What do you think of my plan? It’s only a plan, you know, Tony—subject to your approval.”

“Diplomat!” murmured Anthony, reaching up one arm and drawing it about her shoulders. “You know you’re safe to have my approval when you put it in that tone. Well, provided you can figure out the finances—and I know you wouldn’t propose it if you hadn’t done that already—I don’t see any objection. On one condition, though, Julie, mind you—on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Of course, I can only be here evenings during your house party. So my condition is that I have you and the home all to myself for my vacation afterward. Not a wooer nor a chum admitted. No overdressed women out from town, taking afternoon tea—no invitations to lonesome husbands out to dinner. Just you and I. Did you ever imagine life in the rural localities would be so gay, anyhow? I want to go fishing with you—tramping through the woods with you—sitting out here on the porch with you—in short, have you all to myself—and”—he turned completely about, kneeling below her on the step, crushing her in both arms so vigorously that he stopped her breath—“eat—you—up!”

“What a prospect,” she cried softly, when she found herself partially released. “Are you sure you need a vacation, just for that?”

“Certain of it. I’ve had to share you with other people all the year—and now I’ve got to give you up to a jealous lovers’ assemblage. So after that, mind you, I have my satisfaction.”

When Doctor Barnes was told of the plan he looked gloomy. “Going to ask Lockwood?” he inquired at once.

“Of course,” assented Juliet promptly.

“I don’t see any ‘of course’ about it.”

“What would Marie Dresser do to me if I didn’t invite him?”

“He doesn’t care for her——”

“Oh, yes, he does. Why, last winter he seemed to be on the point of asking her to marry him. Everybody expected the announcement any day.”

“Last winter and this summer are two different propositions.”

“Marie doesn’t think so.”

“She’ll get mightily undeceived, then. Whom else are you asking?”

“Stevens Cathcart.”

The doctor groaned. “Is this a dose you’re fixing for me? I’m going to be too busy—I can’t come.”

“Very well,” said Juliet placidly. She was sewing, upon the porch, and the doctor sat on the step.

He looked up with a grimace. “I suppose you think I’ll be out on the next train after the rest arrive.”

“I certainly do, Dr. Roger Williams Barnes.”

“I presume you are inviting Suzanne?” he queried.

“Why not?”

“No reason why not. Cathcart admires her immensely—or did, before he began to cultivate this place.”

Juliet laughed. “Suzanne would never forgive you if she heard that.”

“By-the-way,” said the doctor slowly, “has she ever met—Miss Redding?”

“No.”

He meditated for several minutes in silence, while Juliet sewed, glancing from time to time at one of the most attractive masculine profiles with which she was familiar. He was not as handsome a man as Louis Lockwood, but every line of his face stood for strength, not without some pretensions to good looks. He looked up at length and straight at her.

“Would you mind telling me,” he began, “just what you intend to effect with this combination? I never gave you credit, you know, Juliet, for wanting to manage Fate, and I don’t believe it now.”

“No, I don’t want to manage Fate,” said Juliet, smiling over her work, “but I admit I want two things: I want you to see Rachel Redding beside Suzanne Gerard, and—I want Rachel to see you beside Louis Lockwood and—Suzanne.”

“I see,” said the doctor grimly. “In other words, you want your protÉgÉe to have fair play.”

“Just that,” Juliet answered, more gravely now. “I think lots of you, Roger, and well of you—you know I do—and yet——”

“And yet——”

“Let me guard my girl. She’s not like the others, and you and Louis are making it tremendously hard for her between you.”

“You seem to be planning to make it infinitely harder.”

Juliet shook her head. “Trust me, Roger, please.”

“All right, I will,” promised the doctor. “But just assure me that you’re on my side.”

“I’m on nobody’s side,” was all the comfort he got.

Juliet’s invitations received delighted acceptances, though Wayne Carey and Doctor Barnes would be able to come out only for the nights—in time, however, for late and festive suppers outdoors. The tent in the orchard, with its comfortable bunks, was accepted by all the men with enthusiasm.

“And to satisfy the men is the essential thing, you know, Tony,” Juliet had observed sagely when she saw their pleasure in their quarters. “The girls will accept any crowding together if they have a mirror and room to tie a sash in, as long as devoted admirers are not wanting.”

The moment Miss Dresser and Miss Gerard saw Miss Rachel Redding—to quote Anthony—the fun began. Mrs. Wayne Carey had already met her, and had been carefully coached by Juliet as to the bearing she must assume toward Juliet’s new friend. So when Marie and Suzanne began to inquire of Judith the latter was prepared to answer them.

“She’s a beauty in her way, isn’t she?” Judith asserted. “Juliet’s immensely fond of her, I should judge.”

“But who is she?” demanded Suzanne.

“A neighbour, a country girl, a school and college girl, a comparatively poor girl—and a lucky girl, for Juliet likes her.”

“Have the men met her before?”

“Goodness, yes. Haven’t you heard how they beg invitations home to dinner of Anthony, just to see her?” Judith was enjoying the situation. This statement, however, was no part of Juliet’s coaching.

“I didn’t see anything particularly attractive about her,” said Marie promptly. “She’s a demure thing. One wouldn’t think she ever lifted those long lashes to look at a man—but that’s just the kind. Awfully plainly dressed.”

“That’s her style,” said Suzanne. “These poor, pretty girls are once in a while just clever enough to make capital out of their poverty by wearing simply fetching things in pale gray dimity and dark blue lawn and sunbonnets. Stevens Cathcart would be just the kind to be carried away with her. Roger Barnes wouldn’t look at her twice.”

“Louis might pretend to admire her, to please Juliet,” admitted Marie. “He has a way of making every girl think he is in love with her—and he is, to a certain extent. But it’s never serious.”

Whether it were serious in this instance Miss Dresser soon had opportunity to judge.

After dinner that first night Anthony proposed taking all his guests out upon the river in a big flat-boat he had rented. But when he made up the party Rachel was not to be found.

“I’m afraid she’s gone home,” said Juliet.

“I’ll run down and see,” proposed Lockwood instantly, and was suiting the action to the word when Cathcart got off ahead of him.

“I’ll have her back presently,” he called as he dashed down the road. “You people go on—we’ll catch you.”

“We’ll wait for you,” Lockwood shouted after him.

“Why should we wait?” demurred Marie, beginning to walk away toward the river.

“If we don’t he’s liable not to find it convenient to catch up with us,” Lockwood retorted.

“If they prefer their own company why not let them have it?” she said over her shoulder.

“Run along, Louis,” murmured Doctor Barnes. “One girl at a time.”

He turned to Juliet. “Shall we go?” he said.

Anthony caught his glance, and, laughing, turned to Suzanne. “Will you console an old married man, Miss Gerard?” he inquired.

But when Cathcart reappeared, which he did very soon, Rachel was not with him. “She said she had to stay with her mother,” he explained in a tone which so closely resembled a growl that everybody laughed.

“Bear up, Stevie, boy,” chaffed Wayne Carey. “I’m confident she likes you, but she may not like you all the time, you know. They seldom do.”