“Of course we’re horribly out of practice and all that,” explained Lanse, distributing scores, and helping to prop up Celia so that she might try to play, “but since you insist we’ll give you all you’ll want in a very few minutes.  Here’s your flute, Uncle Ray.  If you’ll play along with Celia it will help out.”

It was not so bad, after all.  Lanse had chosen the most familiar of the old music, everybody did his and her best, and Captain Rayburn’s flute, exquisitely played, did indeed “help out.”

Celia, her cheeks very pink, worked away until Doctor Churchill gently took her violin from her, but after that the music still went very well.

“Good! good!” applauded Doctor Forester.  “Churchill, you’re in luck to live next door to this sort of thing.”

“Now that I know what I live next door to,” remarked the younger physician, “I shall know what to prescribe for the entire family on winter evenings.”

There could be no question that Doctor Churchill also was enjoying the evening.  Helping Charlotte and the boys serve the sandwiches and chocolate, which appeared presently—­the chocolate being made by Mrs. Fields in the kitchen—­he said to the girl: 

“I haven’t had such a good time since I came away from my old home.”

“It was so nice of Fieldsy to make the chocolate,” Charlotte replied, somewhat irrelevantly.  Then as the doctor looked quickly at her and laughed, she flushed.  “Oh, I don’t call her that to her face!” she said, hurriedly.

“I don’t think she would mind.  That’s what Andy Churchill called her, and calls her yet, when he forgets her newly acquired dignity as a doctor’s housekeeper.  I’m mighty glad Fieldsy can be of service to you.  You’ve won her heart completely and I assure you that’s a bigger triumph than you realise.”

“She’s the nicest neighbour we ever had,” said Charlotte, gaily.  The doctor paused, delayed them both a moment while he rearranged a pile of spoons and forks upon his tray, and said: 

“If you talk of neighbours, Miss Charlotte, there’s a certain homesick young doctor who appreciates having neighbours, too.”

Charlotte answered as lightly as he had spoken:  “With Mrs. Fields in the kitchen and you in here with a tray full of hospitality, I’m sure you seem very much like one of our oldest neighbours.”

“Thank you!” he answered, with such a glad little ring in his voice that Charlotte could not be sorry for the impulsive speech.  But she found herself wondering more than once during the evening what he had meant by calling himself “homesick.”

“See here, Mrs. Fields,” called Jeff, hurrying out for fresh supplies, “this is the best chocolate ever brewed!  Doctor Forester wants another cup, and all the fellows looked sort of wistful when they heard him ask for it.  May everybody have another cup?”

“Well, I must say, Mr. Jefferson!” said Mrs. Fields, in astonishment.  “I thought Miss Charlotte was going clean crazy when she would have three double-boilers made.  But it seems she knew her friends’ appetites.  Don’t you know it ain’t considered proper to pass more than one cup—­light refreshments like these?”