his mother could hope in favor of her frequent argument that he should end his exile in Chicago and return to his home and marry a girl of inheritance and tradition like his own.
His mind went to Melicent Webster because he knew that she, at that moment, was in his mother's mind. Melicent was a neighbor whom he had known since childhood, when she was a sturdy, straightforward, sober-minded little girl who swam and dived almost as well as a boy and who ice-skated skillfully and tirelessly.
Her family, or some member of it, had been a neighbor of the Clarkes' for nearly a hundred years, but except for the occasion when great-uncle Ethan wedded Susan Webster, in 1844, the families had not intermarried.
Since Melicent was two years younger than himself, she was twenty-eight this fall, Calvin reckoned; she was tall and strong and straightforward as ever, and Calvin liked and respected her. He had seen her several times, when last he was home, and he had danced with her on the evening before he returned to Chicago. She danced well, as she did all things, and she talked intelligently and with accurate information upon any matter she discussed; but when Calvin was alone upon the train, he had been surprised by no such reverie as followed his parting from the Royle girl.
Their characters could not be compared. Melicent was admirable, wholly so, whereas the Royle girl was despicable; yet now that Calvin was near Melicent Webster, he had no impatience to seek her. He would call sometime to-morrow or the next day. Her nearness stirred no sensation of the same order as that which overwhelmed him on the evening of his visit to the automat and when he sought the Royle girl in the empty court-room.
He thought, "Suppose she was a few hundred yards down this road." And the idea agitated him so that he
