like a Campbell twin, and called him an "old dear," Reba's awe of him disappeared a little, and she felt as if she could almost love him herself, when he reached over and squeezed her idol's hand, and said, "There's none finer than my Katherine!"
That such a relation between father and daughter existed, that such a home life as the Parks' was an actuality, were revelations to Reba! And in New England too! All New England Yankees were not, then, restricted and parsimonious, for the Parks were New England Yankees to the bone. Katherine often boasted of it.
It was after the bountiful repast was finished (Reba thought she had never seen quite so big a roast), when the noisy group around the dinner-table had moved to the vine-shrouded veranda, that out of the darkness of the drive, along which, a scant four hours before, Reba had rolled into this amazing atmosphere, an automobile appeared, drew up before the two or three granite steps that led up to the front door of the Park house, and stopped.
"Hello!" lustily sung out one of the Parks.
"Who are you, stranger?" called another.
"Get out and come in," invited the perfectly-at-home Tommy Blake, though Reba wondered at his presumption.
Gerard Park lazily uncrossed his knees, got up, and strolled over toward the granite steps.
"Hello, Gerard," said some one from the dark interior of the closed automobile.
"Oh! You? Hello, Chad!" replied Gerard. "Glad to see you. Come on up."
"City is pretty dead," Reba heard a familiar voice
