“Well, I stewed some dried apricots once,” said Wade, “and they weren’t half bad.  I suppose you’re going to be busy all the morning, aren’t you?” he asked, forlornly.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Indeed you’re not,” said Miss Mullett, decisively.  “You’re going to stop as soon as we get this kettleful off.  I can do the rest much better without you, dear.”

“Did you ever hear such ingratitude?” laughed Eve.  “Here I’ve been hard at work since goodness only knows what hour of the morning, and now I’m informed that my services are valueless!  I shall stay and help just to spite you, Carrie.”

“I wanted you to take a walk,” said Wade, boldly.  “It’s a great morning, too fine to be spent indoors.”

“Is it?” Eve looked up at the fleecy sky critically.  “Don’t you think it looks like rain?”

“Not a bit,” he answered, stoutly.  “We’re in for a long drought.  Zephania told me so not half an hour ago.”

“Is Zephania a weather prophet?”

“She’s everything.  She knows so much that she makes me ashamed of myself.  And she never makes a mistake about the weather.”

Wade waited anxiously.

“We-ll,” said Eve, finally, “if you’re sure it isn’t going to rain, and Carrie really doesn’t want me—­”

“I do not,” said Miss Mullett, crisply.  “A walk will do you good.  She stayed up until all hours last night, Mr. Herrick, writing.  I wish you’d say something to her; she pays no attention to me.”

Wade flushed.  Eve turned and shot an indignant glance at Miss Mullett, but that lady was busy over the kettle with her back toward them.

“I’m afraid she would pay less heed to me than to you,” answered Wade with a short laugh.  “But if you’ll persuade her to walk, I’ll lecture her as much as you wish.”

“If I’m to be lectured,” replied Eve, “I shan’t go.”

“Well, of course, if you put it that way,” hedged Wade.

“Go along, dear,” said Miss Mullett.  “You need fresh air.  But do keep out of the sun if it gets hot.”

“I wonder,” observed Wade, with a smile, “what you folks up here would do down in New Mexico, where the temperature gets up to a hundred and twenty in the shade.”

“I’d do as the Irishman suggested,” answered Eve, pertly, “and keep out of the shade.  If you’ll wait right where you are and not move for ten minutes I’ll go and get ready.”

“I won’t ruffle a feather,” Wade assured her.  “But you’d better come before dinner time or I may get hungry and eat all the jelly.”

Twenty minutes later she was back, a cool vision of white linen and lace.  She wore no hat, but had brought a sunshade.  Pursued by Miss Mullett’s admonitions to keep out of the sun as much as possible, they went down the garden and through the gate, and turned countryward under the green gloom of the elms.  Alexander the Great, laboring perhaps under the delusion that he was a dog instead of a cat, followed them decorously for some distance, and then, being prevailed on to desist, climbed a fence-post and blinked gravely after them.