“I couldn’t,” I heard him say, “I had guests to dinner.”

Fortunately neither Una nor her mother was down.

“I didn’t tell you,” he replied to her question.  “It was—­er—­rather sudden.  Miss Habberton and her mother.  They’re staying here for a few days.  How are you—?  Oh, I don’t see why you—­What difference does that make—?  Won’t you come over this afternoon?  Please.  Why not—?  I’m awfully anxious to see you.  Why, I couldn’t, Marcia, not just now and besides—­What—?”

Apparently she had rung off.  He tried to get her number and when he got it came away from the instrument suddenly, for the girl had evidently refused to talk to him.

At the breakfast table, to which the ladies but not Jack Ballard descended, he was very quiet.  I pitied him, but led the conversation into easy paths in which after a while he joined us.  I saw Una glancing at him curiously, but no personal comment passed and when we went out on the shaded terrace to look down toward the lake, over the shimmering summer landscape, Una took a deep breath and then gave a long sigh of delight.

“Isn’t it wonderful just to live on a day like this?” And then with a laugh, “Jerry, you simply must give us Horsham Manor as a fresh air farm.”

He smiled slowly.

“It would do nicely, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, splendidly.  Five thousand acres!  That would be an acre apiece for every man, woman and child in the whole district.  We would build mills by the lake, factories along the road and tenements in groups on the hills over there.  It might spoil the landscape, but it would be so—­er—­so satisfying.”

“And you’d want me to pay the bills,” he laughed.

“Oh, yes.  Of course.  What are bills for unless to be paid?”

“Help yourself,” he smiled.  “Will you have the deeds made out today or wait until next week?”

“I suppose I might wait until tomorrow.”

“Oh, thanks.  And, for the present, we’ll go fishing.”

“I’ll be ready in a moment.”  And she went upstairs for her hat and gloves.

Already he yielded again to the spell of her comradeship and humor.  And a moment later I saw them set off toward the Sweetwater, Una glowing with quiet delight, Jerry slowly showing the infection of her happiness.

The nature of Una’s conversation with Jerry during that morning of fishing and in the days that followed must always remain a secret to me.  I know that when they returned Jerry was in a cheerful mood and put through an afternoon of tennis with Jack, while Una and her mother knitted in the shade.  She was wholesome, that girl, and no one could be with her long without feeling the impress of her personality.  But I was not happy.  Marcia hung like a millstone around my neck.  I knew that it was at the risk of a considerable sacrifice of pride that Una had decided to come with her mother and make this visit.