plenty of occupation. There was the round of teas and dinners which
Ashurst felt it incumbent to give to a new arrival, and Lois was to have
two new gowns in consequence of so much gayety.

She spent a good deal of time with Mrs. Forsythe, for the elder lady
needed her, she said. It was not altogether the companionship which
fascinated Lois: the sunny drawing-room of the house the Forsythes had
hired was filled with dainty things, and light, graceful furniture, and
many harmlessly silly novels; there was a general air about it of
belonging to a life she had never seen which made it a pleasure to come
into it. The parlors in Ashurst had such heavy, serious chairs and
tables, she said to herself, and the pictures were all so dark and ugly,
and she was so tired of the carpets.

So she was very glad when Mrs. Forsythe begged her to come and read
aloud, or fix her flowers, or even stroke her soft white hair when she
had a headache. "Dick may be at home, my dear," Mrs. Forsythe would say
in her deprecating voice, "but you won't mind him?" And soon Lois did not
mind him at all.

At first she was very shy in the presence of this light-hearted young
fellow, whose indifference to Ashurst opinion was very impressive; but by
and by that wore off, and Mrs. Forsythe's drawing-room echoed with their
young laughter. Lois began to feel with Dick the freedom and friendliness
which had once been only for Gifford. "Why couldn't Giff have been like
this?" she thought; yet she did not say that she and Mr. Forsythe were
like "brother and sister," for she was always conscious of a possibility
in their friendship; but it was enough that Mr. Forsythe was very
interesting, and that that summer, life was very delightful.