The dinner hour passed, a merry hour at a dignified table, served by the old butler who made a rite of his service, his face never relaxing though the laughter rang never so contagiously.  Burns and Coolidge were the life of the company, the latter seeming a different man from the one who had come to consult his old chum as to the trouble in his life.  Mrs. Coolidge, quiet and very attractive in her reserved, fair beauty, made an interesting foil to Ellen Burns, and the two, beside the rather fussy aunt and cousins, seemed to belong together.

“Anne, we must show Doctor Burns our plans for the cottage,” Coolidge said to his sister as they left the table.  He turned to Ellen, walking beside her.  “She’s almost persuaded us to build on a corner of her own estate—­at least a summer place, for a starter.  You know Red prescribed for us a cottage, and we haven’t yet carried out his prescription But this sister of mine, since she met him, has acquired the idea that any prescription of his simply has to be filled, and she won’t let Alicia and me alone till we’ve done this thing.  Shall we all walk along down there?  There’ll be just about time before dark for you to see the site, and the plans shall come later.”

The whole party trooped down the steps into the garden.  King was a clever engineer, but he could not do any engineering which seemed to count in this affair.  Never seeming to avoid him, Anne was never where he could get three words alone with her.  She devoted herself to his mother, to Ellen, or to Burns himself, and none of these people gave him any help.  Not that he wanted them to.  He bided his time, and meanwhile he took some pleasure in showing his lady that he, too, could play his part until it should suit her to give him his chance.

But when, as the evening wore on, it began to look as if she were deliberately trying to prevent any interview whatever, he grew unhappy.  And at last, the party having returned to the house and gathered in a delightful old drawing-room, he took his fate in his hands.  At a moment when Anne stood beside Red Pepper looking over some photographs lying on the grand piano, he came up behind them.

“Miss Coolidge,” he said, “I wonder if you would show me that lilac hedge by moonlight.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t any moon,” she answered with a merry, straightforward look.  “It will be as dark as a pocket down by that hedge, Mr. King.  But I’ll gladly show it to you to-morrow morning—­as early as you like.  I’m a very early riser.”

“As early as six o’clock?” he asked eagerly.

She nodded.  “As early as that.  It is a perfect time on a May morning.”

“And you won’t go anywhere now?”

“How can I?” she parried, smiling.  “These are my guests.”

Burns glanced at his friend, his hazel eyes full of suppressed laughter.  “Better be contented with that, old fellow.  That row of lilacs will be very nice at six o’clock to-morrow morning.  Mayn’t I come, too, Miss Coolidge?”