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forehead, it was impossible to doubt the honest friendliness in her eyes. She seemed to Floyd not a day older than when he had ridden and skated with her; she was the same slender, graceful figure, and her face wore the same girlish merriment and welcome.

"You have been away a long time," he said. "I'm glad to see this sort of thing,"—and he indicated the plans,—"for it looks as if you meant to settle down."

"Oh, I shall never leave Avalon again," Lydia declared. "You can't know—you people who've been staying here—I've been so homesick for all of you! Don't you think we're going to have the prettiest house? Has Stewart shown it to you?"

She pulled out the plan from under the drawings for her father's house and pointed to a second-story window.

"There," she said. "That's to be your room, Floyd—whenever your family desert you—or any other time."

"If you mean that, you'll have me deserting my family," said Floyd.

"Of course we mean it," Stewart answered. "You're to come round and keep us from getting lonely. Oh—and I've got you to thank, Floyd, for pushing me into the Avalon Club—you and Mr. Dunbar. I'm much obliged; it gives me a first-rate start."

"You'll lunch with me there to-day?" said Floyd.

"Can't; I have to go with the lady to-day." Stewart hooked his arm affectionately round his wife's neck and stood rocking her with a good-natured rudeness back and forth, while she swayed unsteadily and cried, "Oh Stewart!" "But I'll see you again this afternoon; you're just across the street, are n't you? I'll drop in."

"Come to dinner to-night," said Lydia, while Stewart was still hauling her head back and forth. "There will be just the family.—Stewart, dear!"

"Boo!" said Stewart, releasing her, only to seize her by the arms from behind.