be quite petulant and said that everybody was always trying to discourage him. Letty and her mother wondered together that evening what could have happened to make him so gay, and shrewdly decided that the blue letter must have had something to do with it. For they always examined his mail—Mrs. Bell especially—with a respectful curiosity; they were as familiar by this time with Colonel Halket's superscription and that of Mrs. Halket as Floyd was himself; and frequently Mrs. Bell would pick up the letters from these persons for the mere pleasure of holding them in her hand.
When Floyd presented himself the next Sunday at the Dunbars', he was ushered into the room where Lydia sat alone. She was on her feet, waiting for him, and ran forward, crying, "Oh, Floyd, I'm so glad to see you again!" and took his big hand. Then she fell back a step or two, gazing at him and laughing—"You've grown so awfully strong and—manly looking," she said. "Sit down and tell me all about yourself."
That was done in a few words—wandering and dull they were, too, for Floyd, sitting on the edge of his chair, was gazing at her and had no other thoughts. He wished that he had the power to make her temporarily inanimate, so that he could stare at her as long as he liked and touch her and walk round and round and examine her. She laughed at him kindly. "You're ever so much more interesting than that," she said. Brown and strong from exposure to the summer sun and winds, she seemed to have developed a new loveliness; her figure that he remembered as girlishly slender had matured, her gray eyes shone with an eager friendly spirit; but that which caught Floyd more than all else with its enchantment was the intermittent quiver of humor over her face—like a light flickering up from lips to temples; it made her seem to him kind and sympathetic and alert with every feminine charm. It was as if the spirit of laughter made quick, frolicsome excursions from the lips where he abode, yet
