it, it was the social season. One never knew when Mrs. Sayre's
butler would call up and say:

"I am speaking for Mrs. Sayre. Mrs. Sayre would like to have the
pleasure of Miss Wheeler's company on Thursday to luncheon, at
one-thirty."

When the Sayre pew was empty, the town knew, if it happened to be
winter, that the Florida or Santa Barbara season was on; or in
summer the Maine coast.

The other pew was at the back of the church. Always it had one
occupant; sometimes it had three. But the behavior of this pew
was very erratic. Sometimes an elderly and portly gentleman with
white hair and fierce eyebrows would come in when the sermon was
almost over. Again, a hand would reach through the grill behind
it, and a tall young man who had had his eyes fixed in the proper
direction, but not always on the rector, would reach for his hat,
get up and slip out. On these occasions, however, he would first
identify the owner of the hand and then bend over the one permanent
occupant of the pew, a little old lady. His speech was as Yea, yea,
or Nay, nay, for he either said, "I'll be back for dinner," or "Don't
look for me until you see me."

And Mrs. Crosby, without taking her eyes from the sermon, would
nod.

Of late years, Doctor David Livingstone had been taking less and
less of the "Don't-look-for-me-until-you-see-me" cases, and Doctor
Dick had acquired a car, which would not freeze when left outside