suspicions had something of the unreal quality of a nightmare. Aunt
Isabel was reading aloud to Uncle Charlie out of the Sunday paper.
Beautiful! The sunset was carrying away its gold like some bold
knight with his captured, streaming-tressed lady. The fitful breeze
whispered in the rhythm of olden ballads. Unseen church bells sent
long-drawn cadences across the evening hush. And the little stars
quivered into being, to peer at the young poignancy of feeling which
cannot know what it contributes to the world. . .

Everything was idyllic--that is, almost idyllic--till, suddenly
Uncle Charlie spoke:

"Isn't that Saunders coming up the street?"

Why, oh why, did Mr. Saunders have to come and spoil everything?

But poor Uncle Charlie seemed glad to see him--just as glad as Aunt
Isabel. Mr. Saunders sat up there amongst them, laughing and joking,
now and then directing one of his quaint, romantic-sounding phrases
at Missy. And she pretended to be pleased with him--indeed, she
would have liked Mr. Saunders under any other circumstances.

Presently he exclaimed:

"By my halidome, I'm hot! My kingdom for a long, tall ice-cream
soda!"

And Uncle Charlie said:

"Well, why don't you go and get one? The drug store's just two