“The second one means,” said Roberta, with her arm about the slim young shoulders, “‘While we live, let us live—­well.’” Her eyes met Richard’s with a shade of defiance in them.

“Thank you,” said he.  “Do you expect me to adopt the amendment?”

“Why not?”

“Even you—­take cross-country runs.”

She nodded.  “And am all the better teacher for them next day.”

He laughed.  “I should like to take one with you some time,” said he.  He saw Judge Gray coming toward them.  “I wonder if I’m likely ever to have the chance,” he added hurriedly.

“You take a cross-country run when you could have a sixty-mile spin in that motor-car of yours instead?”

“I couldn’t go cross-country in that.  You see I’ve been by the beaten track so much I should like to try exploring something new.”

He was eager to say more, but Judge Gray, coming up to them, laid an affectionate hand on his niece’s shoulder.

“She doesn’t look the part she plays by day, does she?” he said to Richard.  “Curious, how times have changed.  In my day a teacher looked a teacher every minute of her time.  One stood in awe of her—­or him—­particularly of her.  A prim, stuff gown, hair parted in the middle and drawn smoothly away”—­his glance wandered from Roberta’s ivory neck to the dusky masses of her hair—­“spectacles, more than likely—­with steel bows.  And a manner—­ye gods—­the manner!  How we were impressed by it!  Well, well!  Fine women they were and true to their profession.  These modern girls who look younger than their pupils—­” He shook his head with an air of being quite in despair about them.

“Uncle Calvin,” said Roberta, demurely, with her hand upon his arm, “do tell Mr. Kendrick about your teaching school ‘across the river’ when you were only sixteen years old.”

And, of course, that settled the chance of Richard’s hearing anything about Roberta’s teaching, for, though Judge Gray was called out of the room in the midst of his story, Stephen and Louis came up and joined the group and switched the talk a thousand miles away from schools and school-teaching.

Presently there was music again, and this time Richard found himself sitting beside young Mrs. Stephen Gray.  Between numbers he found questions to ask, which she answered with evident pleasure.

“These three must have been playing together a good many years?”

“Dear me, yes—­ever since they were born, I think.  They do make real harmony, don’t they?”

“They do—­in more ways than one.  Is that colour scheme intentional, do you think?”

Mrs. Stephen’s glance followed his as it dwelt upon the group.  “I hadn’t noticed,” she admitted, “but I see it now; it’s perfect.  And I’ve no doubt Ruth thought it out.  She’s quite a wonderful eye for colour, and she worships Rob and likes to dress so as to offset her—­always giving Rob the advantage—­though of course she would have that, anyway, by virtue of her own colouring.”