“Well,” said Wade, grimly.  “I’ve made no promises, and I haven’t given up yet.  And you’ll find, Miss Walton, that I’m a tiresome chap when it comes to having my own way.”

“And you’ll find, Mr. Herrick, that I’m a stubborn woman when it comes to having mine.  There, the battle is on!”

“And I shall win,” said Wade, looking up at her with a sudden gleam in his eyes.  For an instant she met his gaze and found herself a little dismayed at some expression she found there.  But—­

“We’ll see,” she answered, calmly.  “Is it to be war to the knife, Mr. Herrick?”

“I hope it won’t come to that,” he answered.  “But there’s another thing I want you to do, and as it’s something you can do without wounding your conscience, I hope you will.”

“It sounds formidable.  What is it, please?”

“Come over this afternoon and have tea, you and Miss Mullett.  Will you?”

“Gladly.  I haven’t had afternoon tea since I left New York.”

“Then shall we say four o’clock?  Don’t fail me, please, Miss Walton, for Zephania and I will be terribly disappointed if you do.  It’s our first tea, you know.”

“Indeed we won’t fail you!” answered Eve.  “And, please, I like lemon with mine.”

All was ready for the guests long before the time appointed, and Wade, attired in his best blue serge, whitest vest, and bluest silk tie, and clean-shaven to a painful degree, paced impatiently between the kitchen, fragrant with the odor of newly-baked cake, and the parlor, less chill and formal than usual under the humanizing influence of several bowls and vases of flowers.

The ladies were quite on time, Miss Mullett looking sweet and cheerful in pink and white, and Eve absolutely lovely and adorable in pale-blue linen that matched her eyes to the fraction of a tone.  They settled themselves in the cool parlor and talked while the shades rustled and whispered in the little scented breeze that stole through the open windows.  Zephania, starched and ribboned, bore proudly in the best silver tea service, Wade watching the progress of the heavily laden tray across the room with grave anxiety.

“I’d like you to know,” he announced when it was safely deposited on the little table at Eve’s side, “that this is Zephania’s spread.  She made the cake herself—­and the bread too.”

“The dear child!” said Miss Mullett.

“Why, Zephania!” exclaimed Eve.

And Zephania, very proud and rosy, and trying hard to look unconcerned, made her escape just as Doctor Crimmins, happening by, heard the voices and demanded admittance with the head of his cane on the window-sill.  That was a very jolly tea-party.  The Doctor ate six pieces of cake and drank three cups of tea, praising each impartially between mouthfuls.  Wade, eating and drinking spasmodically, told of his adventures in search of lemons.

“Prout’s emporium was quite out of them,” he explained.  “Prout said he had had some a few weeks ago, but they were sold.  So I walked over to The Centre and got them there.”