If I had not had the vague uneasiness concerning Dicky I could have been perfectly happy in spite of the loneliness.  But my uneasiness concerning Dicky’s friendship with Grace Draper was deepening to real alarm and anger.  I had nothing more tangible than the neighborhood gossip, which I had so thoroughly repulsed when it was offered me by Mrs. Hoch and her daughter.  But Dicky was becoming more and more distrait, and when he would allow nothing to keep him from taking the morning train on which Miss Draper traveled to the studio, I remembered that when we had first come to Marvin he had taken any forenoon train he happened to choose.

The second morning after his mother’s departure, Dicky almost missed kissing me good-by in his mad haste to catch his train.  He rushed out of the door after a most perfunctory peck at my cheek, and I saw him almost running down the little lane bordered with wild flowers that led “across lots” to the railroad station.

“I cannot bear this any longer,” I muttered to myself, clenching my hands, as I saw the Hochs, mother and daughter, watching him from their screened porch, and imagined their satirical comments on his eagerness to make the train.

I sat listlessly on the veranda for an hour.  Then the ringing of the telephone roused me.  As I took down the receiver I heard the droning of the long distance operator:  “Is this Marvin, 971?” and at my affirmative answer the husky voice of Lillian Underwood.

“Hello, my dear.”  Her voice had the comforting warmth which it had held for me ever since the memorable day when by her library fire we had resurrected the secret which her past life and Dicky’s shared.  We had buried it again, smoothed out all our misunderstandings in the process and been sworn friends ever since.

“Oh, Mrs. Underwood!” My voice was almost a peal of joy.  “I am so glad to hear your voice.”

“Are you very busy?  Is there anything you cannot leave for the day?” She was direct as usual.

“Only the dog and cat and Katie,” I answered.

“Good.  Then what train can you get into town, and where can I meet you?  I want you to lunch with me.  I have something important to talk over with you.”

I hastily consulted my watch.  “If I hurry I can catch the 10:21.  Where can I see you?  The train reaches the Pennsylvania at 11 o’clock.”

“I’ll be in the woman’s waiting room at the Pennsylvania, not the Long Island; the main waiting room.  Look for me there.  Good-by.”

As soon as I caught sight of Lillian I knew that something was the matter, or she would not look at me in that way.  Impulsively I laid my hand on hers.

“Tell me, Mrs. Underwood, is anything the matter?”

She imprisoned my hand in both of hers and patted it.

“Nothing that cannot be helped, my dear,” she said determinedly.  “Now I am going to forbid asking another question until we have had our luncheon.  I decline to discuss the affairs of the nation or my own on an empty stomach, and my breakfast this morning consisted of the juice of two lemons and a small cup of coffee.”