Dinner was nearly over; that last desultory conversation had begun, which
was to be ended by a bow from Miss Deborah to Mrs. Forsythe, and the
ladies were dipping their nuts in their wine, half listening, and half
watching for the signal to rise.

"How much we miss Gifford on such an occasion!" said Mr. Dale to Miss
Ruth.

"Yes," replied the little lady, "dear Giff! How I wish he were here! He
would so enjoy meeting Mr. Forsythe."

Lois smiled involuntarily, and the current of her thoughts suddenly
turned. She saw again the fragrant dusk of the rectory garden, and heard
the wind in the silver poplar and the tremble in a strong voice at her
side.

She was as perplexed as ever when the ladies went back to the parlor.
Mrs. Forsythe came to her, as they passed through the hall, and took the
young girl's hand in hers.

"I shall miss you very much this winter, Lois," she said, in her mildly
complaining voice. "You have been very good to me; no daughter could have
been more thoughtful. And I could not have loved a daughter of my own
more." She gently patted the hand she held. "Dick is not very happy, my
dear."

"I'm sorry," faltered Lois.

They had reached the parlor door, and Mrs. Forsythe bent her head towards