prolonged rest-cure myself. I've always meant to see more of this
picturesque part of Vermont. I've a notion that the air of this lovely
spot will do me a world of good."

As Mr. Welles opened his mouth, perhaps rather wide, in the beginning of
a remark, he cut in briskly with, "You're worrying about
Schwatzkummerer, I know. Never you fear. I'll get hold of his address,
all right." He explained briefly to Mrs. Crittenden, startled by the
portentous name. "Just a specialist in gladiolus seeds."

"_Bulbs!_" cried Mr. Welles, in involuntary correction, and knew as he
spoke that he had been switched off to a side-track.

"Oh well, bulbs be it," Vincent conceded the point indulgently. He took
off his hat in a final salutation to Mrs. Crittenden, and grasping his
elderly friend by the arm, moved with him down the flag-paved path.




CHAPTER IV

TABLE TALK

_An Hour in the Home Life of Mrs. Neale Crittenden, aet. 34_


March 20.

As she and Paul carried the table out to the windless, sunny side-porch,