hot--and tired."

Miss Van Gorder looked at her keenly. The young face seemed
curiously worn and haggard in the clear afternoon light.

"You--you don't really feel very well, do you, Dale?"

"Oh--it's nothing. I feel all right--really."

"I could send for Doctor Wells if--"

"Oh, heavens, no, Aunt Cornelia." She managed a wan smile. "It
isn't as bad as all that. I'm just tired and the city was terribly
hot and noisy and--" She stole a glance at her aunt from between
lowered lids. "I got your gardener, by the way," she said casually.

"Did you, dear? That's splendid, though--but I'll tell you about
that later. Where did you get him?"

"That good agency, I can't remember its name." Dale's hand moved
restlessly over her eyes, as if remembering details were too great
an effort. "But I'm sure he'll be satisfactory. He'll be out here
this evening--he--he couldn't get away before, I believe. What
have you been doing all day, darling?"

Miss Cornelia hesitated. Now that Dale had returned she suddenly
wanted very much to talk over the various odd happenings of the day
with her--get the support of her youth and her common sense. Then
that independence which was so firmly rooted a characteristic of
hers restrained her. No use worrying the child unnecessarily; they