significant of her complete abeyance in such matters; but as it was she
only studied simplicity, and as we have seen from the impression of the
barge-driver she did not finally escape distinction in dress and manner.
In fact, she could not have escaped that effect if she would; and it was
one of the indomitable contradictions of her nature that she would not.

When she came back to the croquet-ground, leading the little girl by the
hand, she found Mrs. Maynard no longer alone and no longer sad. She was
chatting and laughing with a slim young fellow, whose gay blue eyes
looked out of a sunburnt face, and whose straw hat, carried in his hand,
exposed a closely shaven head. He wore a suit of gray flannel, and Mrs.
Maynard explained that he was camping on the beach at Birkman's Cove, and
had come over in the steamer with her when she returned from Europe. She
introduced him as Mr. Libby, and said, "Oh, Bella, you dirty little
thing!"

Mr. Libby bowed anxiously to Grace, and turned for refuge to the little
girl. "Hello, Bella!" "Hello!" said the child. "Remember me?" The child
put her left hand on that of Grace holding her right, and prettily
pressed her head against the girl's arm in bashful silence. Grace said
some coldly civil words to the young man: without looking at Mrs.
Maynard, and passed on into the house.

"You don't mean that's your doctor?" he scarcely more than whispered.

"Yes, I do," answered Mrs. Maynard. "Is n't she too lovely? And she's
just as good! She used to stand up at school for me, when all the girls
were down on me because I was Western. And when I came East, this time, I
just went right straight to her house. I knew she could tell me exactly
what to do. And that's the reason I'm here. I shall always recommend this