Wednesday brought the return of the Sylph from her cruise. The men, tanned and burned by exposure to wind and sun, were in great spirits, and declared themselves ready for any sport that might be suggested. The girls rallied forces, and in solemn conclave bade them extend their vacation one more week, that Miss Stuart might be amused and entertained. They drew a pathetic picture of her first week in Hetherford, and maintained that it would be rank disloyalty to allow her to go away with such an impression of the beloved place.

In the confusion of tongues two voices were silent. Emily and Jean each had her own reason for wishing Miss Stuart a thousand miles away, and both looked a little contemptuous at the excitement that was being made over her. However, their lack of interest did not dampen the enthusiasm of the others, and the day was carried. The men did not need a great deal of urging, for they had already met Miss Stuart, and were eloquent in their praises of her. Dick Andrews succumbed at once to the tender passion, much to everybody's amusement, for jolly Dick in the rÔle of lovesick swain was a most diverting spectacle.

Andrews did not have it all his own way, however, for Miss Stuart, with an exception in Farr's favor, treated them quite impartially. It was conceded that Farr, as an old friend, had a prior right, and no one marveled that Miss Stuart's manner toward him was particularly gracious and amiable. They were much in each other's society, and so diplomatic was Miss Stuart, that no one discerned that their frequent tÊte-À-tÊtes were invariably of her planning.

It must be said, however, that Farr made no resistance and appeared eminently at ease with her. He was sorely wounded, and as angry with Jean as it was possible for him to be; and in this dejected and unenviable frame of mind, he took small heed of what he did with his time. Monday night when, at Helen's request, Jean had left the drawing-room, she had distinctly bade him hope. One hour later, she had again veered round and had treated him with a contemptuous indifference which he felt he had in no way deserved. Even then he had tried to believe that his imagination was at fault, but when she had purposely overlooked the hand which he had extended to her in parting, he could no longer deceive himself. Unfortunately, Miss Stuart had seen the slight which Jean had put upon him, and the faint smile of amusement in her eyes when she had said, "good-night" to him but deepened the sting. In a tempest of rage he flung himself out of the house and strode furiously down the avenue, leaving poor Dudley far behind, to wonder what on earth was the matter.

It was not easy for Farr with his nature to forgive a repulse, and on Tuesday he kept to the Vortex, nursing his wrongs, and vowing he would take no step to make matters right between them until Jean should show some sign of penitence. By Wednesday this determination was less firm, and during the hours of his work and leisure his heart was pleading for Jean. When evening came he gave up the struggle, and at nine o'clock presented himself at the manor.

The light that streamed out through the open door and windows revealed quite a number of people on the veranda, and he remembered that he had observed the Sylph riding at anchor in the harbor. They gave him a hearty welcome, and while Nathalie was rallying him for his unkind desertion of them, he vainly tried to discover Jean's whereabouts. His inability to do so was soon explained.

"Where did Jean go?" Nathalie asked.

Eleanor answered from the corner of the veranda:

"She went in the house a little while ago."

"Send Susie up for her, Nathalie," Helen requested.

Farr took a seat on the railing at a point which commanded a view of the hall; and found himself face to face with Miss Stuart, who was tilting slowly back and forth in a deep rocker. They had interchanged one or two commonplace remarks when a maid tripped across the hall and stood in the doorway.

"Miss Jean begs to be excused," she announced briefly, and disappeared into the darkened dining room beyond.

Farr drew a quick breath, and a frown contracted his brows. He could scarcely believe that he had heard aright. With a characteristic gesture, he pulled his cap down over his eyes and set his teeth. Miss Stuart remembered the trick of old. She watched him furtively, with a curious light in her eyes. Suddenly he recalled her existence, but when he looked at her she had already averted her gaze and was apparently quite unconscious that anything of importance had taken place.

She gave him a few moments in which to recover himself, and then addressed to him some passing observation on a subject quite alien to Hetherford or the Hetherford girls. Farr, animated by a strong desire to hide his pain and disappointment from every eye, braced himself and replied in a vein of lightness which satisfied her that she had been wise in the course which she had adopted. They drifted quite naturally into conventional small-talk, and every moment he gained more assurance and ease. He was positively grateful for Miss Stuart's presence, for it afforded him a refuge from intercourse with those simple-hearted Hetherford girls, which he felt would, just now, be very disastrous to his self-control. No thought of danger assailed him. He believed Miss Stuart's sentiment for him to be quite dead; and as for himself he had so completely outlived every trace of his boyish passion as to have even lost all feeling of resentment against her. He congratulated himself with true masculine density that he had probed the depths of Miss Stuart's nature, and could never be outwitted by her again. Some day, if things went well with him, he meant to tell Jean all about that affair; in fact, he would have done so Monday evening, had he not felt that it would scarcely be in good taste to discuss the subject with Miss Stuart almost within ear-shot. In the meantime it did not distress him in the least to defer the telling of the story; for Jean, of course, knew nothing whatever of the matter, and it was extremely improbable that Miss Stuart would ever take the pains to enlighten her. In justice to Farr it should be said that he had completely forgotten the incident of the shrubbery which had meant so much to Jean, and he was not aware of the words that she had overheard, and of the construction that she had not unnaturally put upon them.

And all this while poor little Jean lay on the sofa, in her darkened room, sobbing as if her heart would break. She had waited so patiently on Tuesday, hoping against hope that he would come and explain everything to her. For, of course, there was something to explain, else why had he so distinctly avoided all mention of Miss Stuart, even when she had asked him if he knew her?

"He has a right to his past," she said to herself, with quivering lips; "but, oh! if they were such old friends, if she calls him Val, if he remembers one evening with her even to the color of her gown, he might—oh! he might have remembered to speak of her to me."

The more she thought it over the greater seemed the proofs of his deception. If he and Miss Stuart had been old friends and nothing more, it would have been his natural impulse to speak of his surprise and pleasure at meeting her at the manor. He had failed to do so, and, with despair in her heart, Jean told herself that he must have had some strong reason for his silence.

Tuesday wore away, and still no word had come from him. She determined not to let Miss Stuart see how unhappy she was, so kept about with the others, and entered into all their plans with forced gayety. When half-past nine struck on Wednesday evening, she gave up all hope of seeing him, for they were very informal in Hetherford, and kept early hours. She went up to her room, and as she slipped on her wrapper, she fell to crying, and when Susie knocked and announced Farr, she was too disfigured by her tears to think of going down. The disappointment was very keen.

"Please excuse me, Susie," she called through the closed door. "I am sorry, but I am lying down."

As she heard the maid's retreating step she would fain have recalled her, and sent some other message, but it was too late.

The next day, on the decks of the Sylph, Farr and Jean met for the first time since Monday. Jean came aboard fully resolved to tender an apology for having excused herself on the previous evening. She had never lacked self-confidence before, but to-day she could scarcely pluck up courage to speak to him. Timidly she made her first friendly overtures, only to be met with an unmistakable rebuff. Farr answered the questions she put to him, but with a studied indifference which made her cheeks tingle; to make matters worse he presently sauntered off from the group of which Jean made one, and joined Miss Stuart, who was seated a short distance away. Jean's face grew hard as she stifled the sob which rose in her throat, and she registered a vow that never again would she give him an opportunity to treat her so slightingly. It was unmanly and unmannerly, and she had done with him forever. She did not flinch from the path she laid out for herself, and so successfully did she play the part that Dick and Mollie, walking home in the cool of the evening, declared that it was like the good old days to have Jean so jolly and full of fun.

Miss Stuart meanwhile was content to keep Farr at her side, despite the fact that he was a most morose and taciturn companion. She knew wherein lay her advantage, and although the knowledge was not flattering to her self-pride, it did not prevent her from making the best of her opportunities. It was galling to her that Jean had the power to make him so miserable, but the trouble between them served her purpose very well for the present. As she talked to him pleasantly, she did not seem to notice that his replies were monosyllabic, and that he watched Jean's every movement with gloomy eyes. She was a clever woman, with a rare gift of conversation, and ere long her tactful efforts were rewarded, and Farr, roused from his abstraction, shook himself out of his ill-humor. In the course of the day he made one or two attempts at a reconciliation with Jean, but as both she and Miss Stuart had concentrated their energies to prevent his accomplishing his purpose, he failed signally.

As day followed day, the breach between Jean and her lover was not healed, and no hand was stretched forth to stay its ever-widening limits.

"Lillian!"

Miss Stuart laid down her book, and looked expectantly up at Helen.

"I have a suggestion to make for this afternoon. How would you like to drive over to Crescent Beach to call on Mrs. Maynard?"

"I agree to the drive," replied Miss Stuart, stifling a yawn, "but why must we call on that stupid woman? She always bores me to death."

There was a ring of annoyance in Helen's voice as she answered:

"Oh, it is not at all necessary for you to go with me. One of my sisters would be delighted to do so."

"So much the better, my dear," said Miss Stuart indifferently, as she picked up her book and resumed her reading.

"Why are you so down on little Mrs. Maynard?" queried Wendell Churchill, emerging from a recess of the window where he and Nathalie had been whiling away the morning hours with mandolin and banjo.

"I am not down on her in the least, but I think she is uninteresting to a degree."

She paused until the portiÈres had closed on Helen's retreating figure, and then met Churchill's eyes with a meaning smile.

"It is not surprising, is it, that her husband should find Mrs. Desborough a pleasing contrast?"

In her far-away corner hot-tempered Nathalie caught the words and flared up in defense of her friend:

"Oh, I think it is a shame to speak so. Mrs. Maynard is unhappy, but no woman ever bore unhappiness with greater dignity. It seems to me incredible that everybody's sympathies are not enlisted on her side."

"I am very unfortunate," returned Miss Stuart with thinly veiled sarcasm. "This is the second time I have erred in this way. I must be more careful in future not to give expression to my opinions."

Churchill saw that some unpleasantness was imminent, and, manlike, rushed in only to make matters worse.

"Don't you think Miss Nathalie looks very much like Mrs. Desborough? I have so often noticed the resemblance."

With blazing eyes, Nathalie started up from the low window-seat.

"From all I know of her, I cannot feel flattered by the compliment," and, with this parting shot, she thrust open the French windows and flew out on the veranda.

"Dear, dear," murmured Miss Stuart in mock dismay, "what a tempest in a teapot. Those girls are terribly spoiled, and it is all Helen's fault. She is unpardonably weak with them."

Churchill was very much embarrassed by the position in which he found himself. He extricated himself by muttering something barely intelligible, to the effect that the Lawrences were so much attached to each other, and then retreated hastily to find Nathalie and reinstate himself in her good graces.

When afternoon came Miss Stuart relented and she and Helen, with little Gladys between them, started off in the buckboard for Crescent Beach. It was a beautiful drive. For a short distance the road wound through fragrant meadows and wooded lanes until it came out upon the beach, where for several miles it led straight away over the hardened sands. They bowled swiftly along, the fresh salt wind blowing in their faces, the soothing sound of the ebb and flow of the restless waters breaking softly on their ears.

Miss Stuart, exhilarated by the clear air, the brilliant sunshine and the congenial companionship of this friend whom she really loved, had never appeared to a greater advantage. It was the Lillian Stuart who might have been whose cleverness and glancing wit held Helen's mind enthralled, as they talked of all the subjects dear to women's hearts. All too soon they reached their destination. As they drew up under the porte-cochÈre of the hotel, Helen found herself wishing with all her heart that Lillian might continue in so charming a mood.

Presently Mrs. Maynard joined them in the vast hotel parlor, and as Miss Stuart went forward to greet her with great cordiality, Helen had no fault to find with her manner. They chatted together for some few moments when Miss Stuart recognized some friends of hers in a party of people who had wandered in from the piazza. She excused herself, and as she joined them Mrs. Maynard turned to Helen.

"Don't you want to come up to my room for a few moments, Helen? I am sure that Dorothy would be very glad to see Gladys."

The child jumped instantly down from her chair, her chubby face beaming with eager anticipation.

"Gladys has accepted for me," said Helen with an amused smile, and the two made their way upstairs.

"What a lovely view you have!" exclaimed Helen as she dropped into a chair near the open window.

"It is pretty," Mrs. Maynard assented, pushing open a door which led into the next room.

A beautiful little child sat in the middle of the floor, hugging a big woolly lamb close to her heart.

"Dorothy, will you please come here, and speak to little Gladys Lawrence, who has come to see you?"

At her mother's bidding, Dorothy struggled to her feet, and clutching the lamb tightly in both hands, ran toward the open door. Then she caught sight of Helen, and the big violet eyes were swiftly veiled, and the little head with its tangled mass of golden curls was hidden in the folds of her mother's skirt. Mrs. Maynard smiled in gentle reproof as she lifted the child's face.

"What a baby, darling! Please be a good little girl and say 'how-do-you-do' to Gladys."

Dorothy still hung back, clinging fast to her mother's hand; but Gladys, who was the most friendly little creature in the world, soon succeeded in overcoming her shyness. Presently they were chattering together as happily as possible, and Dorothy went so far as to produce her box of paper dolls and to dress them for Gladys' benefit.

Mrs. Maynard's face lighted up with sympathetic interest as Helen gave her a graphic account of the week's gayeties. She had known Miss Stuart for several years, and could well understand Helen's desire to make her visit enjoyable. Miss Stuart, bored, might be a very difficult companion.

"I am so glad for you, Helen, dear, that you have had such pleasant times. I wish you would let me feel that I had contributed in a small way toward helping you to entertain Miss Stuart, and, if you would enjoy it, I would love to have you all come over here for the dance on Saturday evening. I believe they are to have very good music, and we will arrange to have a pleasant little supper together. My husband will be here, and I expect Mr. and Mrs. Endicott, whom you may remember."

"Yes, indeed, I do, and I know that I can accept for all of us. It will be moonlight, so the drive over will be delightful."

On the way home little else was talked of between the girls but the prospective dance. Miss Stuart expressed herself as very much pleased with the idea, and the plan having received the sanction of her approval, Helen forthwith determined that every arrangement should be as perfect as her careful forethought could make it.

When they reached the manor, the girls were having tea on the upper porch. They joined them at once, and the question of the dance was laid before them.

"Glorious!" exclaimed Nathalie, ecstatically, and her verdict was loudly echoed by the others.

Helen drew a chair up close to the tea-table over which Jean was presiding, and pulling off her gloves smoothed them out on her knee with the palm of her hand.

"I want to consult you in regard to the drive, Jeanie," she said in a lowered tone.

Jean nodded, and leaned across her, to hand a cup of tea to Miss Stuart.

"Nathalie," said Helen, "please give Lillian some of that hot toast."

"Toast and jam!" exclaimed Nan in accents of scorn, as she helped herself generously to both. "What sordid considerations, when there is a bona fide ball in view."

"Leave a slice for me, Nancy," laughed Eleanor. "I must fortify myself if you are going to wax eloquent."

"Stop your nonsense, girls," and Nathalie waved an imperious hand at them. "The question is, how shall we drive over?"

Jean turned to Helen.

"If it is a fine night we might go in the wagonette."

"Why, Jean, it would not begin to hold us all," interposed Emily. "There are fourteen of us, counting the men from the Vortex."

"I did not include them," Jean replied quietly.

Miss Stuart stared curiously at her over the edge of her teacup.

"It seems to me that a dance without men is rather a tame affair, and I don't imagine the hotel will yield a very plentiful supply."

Jean lifted her chin defiantly.

"I was not speaking of the dance but of the drive over."

"Well, that is perfectly absurd," Emily broke in. "The idea of our going over in one conveyance, and those poor men in another. What are you thinking of, Jean?"

Miss Stuart laughed softly, while Jean vouchsafed never a word.

A glance of intelligence was flashed from Nan to Eleanor, and Nan spoke up in good-natured raillery.

"Em, dear, have you ever heard that 'enough is as good as a feast.' Jean probably remembered that it it is fully twelve miles there and back and felt some qualms for fear her conversational ability would desert her."

The laugh was general, for it was a joke of long standing that Jean could talk to anyone, at any time, and under any circumstances, however trying.

Helen looked from one to the other with puzzled eyes. She had an uncomfortable consciousness that there was something in the air which she did not understand. She put an end to the discussion with quiet decision.

"There will be quite time enough to talk this over later. We must wait and see how the weather turns out. Now, suppose we go downstairs and have some music before we break up."

Later that evening she opened the subject again to Miss Stuart.

"I will tell you what I have decided, Lillian. We will hire the Hetherford stage and all go over in that."

And Miss Stuart answered, with a tinge of triumph in her voice:

"That is certainly a most sensible plan, my dear."

So it was settled. Jean accepted the decision without a protest. Deep in her heart she still cherished a strong hope that the misunderstandings between Farr and herself might one day be cleared away. She had acted contrary to her own wishes in excluding him from the drive to Crescent Beach, and she admitted to herself, shamefacedly, that she was glad the matter had been taken out of her hands.