Then he laughed over his unconscious imitation of his aunt’s phraseology, and made short work of finishing his disrobing and getting to bed.

It was when Lucinda crept forth to begin to unlock the house at 6.30 upon the morning after, that the fact of the nephew’s arrival was first known to anyone except Janice.

Lucinda saw the coat and hat,—­recognized the initial on the handkerchief in the inside pocket, threw out her arms and gave a faint squeak in utter bewilderment, and then tore off at once to the barn to tell Joshua.

She found Joshua milking the cow.

“What do you think!” she panted briefly, with wide-open eyes and uplifted hands; “Joshua Whittlesey, what do you think?”

“I don’t think nothin’,” said Joshua.  “I’m milkin’.”

“What would you say if I told you as he was come.”

“I’d say he was here.”

“Well, he is.  He must ‘a’ come last night, an’ Lord only knows how he ever got in, for nothing was left open an’ yet he’s there.”

Joshua made no comment.

“I wonder what he came for?”

Joshua made no comment.

“I wonder how long he’ll stay?”

Still Joshua made no comment.

“Joshua Whittlesey, before you get your breakfast, you’re the meanest man I ever saw, and I’ll swear to that anywhere.”

“Why don’t you get me my breakfast then?” said Joshua calmly; and the effect of his speech and his demeanor was to cause Lucinda to turn and leave him at once—­too outraged to address another word to him.

Aunt Mary herself did not awake until ten o’clock.  She rang her bell vigorously then and Janice flew to its answering.

“I dreamed of Jack,” said the old lady, looking up with a smile.  “I dreamed we was each ridin’ on camels in a merry-go-round.”

Janice smiled too, and then set briskly to work to put the room in order and arrange its occupant for the day.

“Did there come any mail?” Aunt Mary inquired, when her coiffure was made and her dressing-gown adjusted.  “I feel jus’ like I might hear from Jack.  Seems as if I sort of can’t think of anythin’ but him.”

“I’ll go and see,” said Janice pleasantly, and she went to the dining room where the Reformed Prodigal sat reading the newspaper with his feet on the table—­an action which convinced Lucinda that he had not reformed so very much after all.

“Suppose you go to her—­instead of me,” suggested the maid, pausing before the reader and usurping all the attention to which the paper should have laid claim.

“Suppose I do,” said Jack, jumping up, “and suppose you stay away and let me try what I can accomplish single-handed.”

“Only—­” began Janice—­and then she stopped and lifted a warning finger.

Jack listened and a stealthy creak betrayed Lucinda’s proximity somewhere in the vicinity.

It was plain to be seen that there were many issues to be kept in mind, and the young man grit his teeth because he didn’t dare embrace his betrothed, and then walked away in the direction of Aunt Mary’s room.