"No, no, my dear; I should be glad to have Sally. How about Austin, too?
He could sleep on the living-room sofa, you know, and that would make
four of us to go about together, which is always a pleasant number.
Thomas would be home at that time, and Austin could probably leave more
easily than at any other."

"Ask him by all means. I think he would be glad to go."

Austin was accordingly invited, and accepted with enthusiasm. Uncle
Mat found him in the barn, where he was separating cream with the
new electric separator, but he nodded, with a smile which showed all
his white teeth, as his voice could not be heard above the noise of
the machine.

"Indeed, I will," he said heartily, when the current was switched off
again. "How unfortunate that Easter comes so late this year--but that
will give us all the longer to look forward to it in! I hate to have you
go back, Mr. Stevens, but I suppose the inevitable call of the siren city
is too much for your easily tempted nature!"

Mr. Stevens laughed, and assented. "How that boy has changed!" he said
to himself as he walked back to the house. "He fairly radiates
enthusiasm and wholesomeness. Well, I'm sorry for him. I wish Sylvia
would leave now instead of in the spring, in spite of her promises and
scruples and what-not. And I wish, darn it all, that she were as easy to
read as he is."

Austin's existence, just at that time, seemed even more rose-colored than
Uncle Mat could suspect. The day after Christmas he pondered for a long
time on the events of the night before, and gave some very anxious