It is impossible to imagine the state of mind of this young cornetist, could he have known that he had caused the prettiest girl in town to jump violently out of bed with what petitions upon her lips regarding his present whereabouts and future detention!  It happened that during the course of his Sunday walk on Corliss Street, that very afternoon, he saw her—­was hard-smitten by her beauty, and for weeks thereafter laid unsuccessful plans to “meet” her.  Her image was imprinted:  he talked about her to his boarding-house friends and office acquaintances, his favourite description being, “the sweetest-looking lady I ever laid eyes on.”

Cora, descending to the breakfast-table rather white herself, was not unpleasantly shocked by the haggard aspect of Hedrick, who, with Laura and Mrs. Madison, still lingered.

“Good-morning, Cora,” he said politely, and while she stared, in suspicious surprise, he passed her a plate of toast with ostentatious courtesy; but before she could take one of the slices, “Wait,” he said; “it’s very nice toast, but I’m afraid it isn’t hot.  I’ll take it to the kitchen and have it warmed for you.”  And he took the plate and went out, walking softly.

Cora turned to her mother, appalled.  “He’ll be sick!” she said.

Mrs. Madison shook her head and smiled sadly.

“He helped to wait on all of us:  he must have been doing something awful.”

“More likely he wants permission to do something awful.”

Laura looked out of the window.

“There, Cora,” said Hedrick kindly, when he brought the toast; “you’ll find that nice and hot.”

She regarded him steadfastly, but with modesty he avoided her eye.  “You wouldn’t make such a radical change in your nature, Hedrick,” she said, with a puzzled frown, “just to get out of going to church, would you?”

“I don’t want to get out of going to church,” he said.  He gulped slightly.  “I like church.”

And church-time found him marching decorously beside his father, the three ladies forming a rear rank; a small company in the very thin procession of fanning women and mopping men whose destination was the gray stone church at the foot of Corliss Street.  The locusts railed overhead:  Hedrick looked neither to the right nor to the left.

They passed a club, of which a lower window was vacated simultaneously with their coming into view; and a small but ornate figure in pale gray crash hurried down the steps and attached itself to the second row of Madisons.  “Good-morning,” said Mr. Wade Trumble.  “Thought I’d take a look-in at church this morning myself.”

Care of this encumbrance was usually expected of Laura and Mrs. Madison, but to their surprise Cora offered a sprightly rejoinder and presently dropped behind them with Mr. Trumble.  Mr. Trumble was also surprised and, as naively, pleased.

“What’s happened?” he asked with cheerful frankness.  “You haven’t given me a chance to talk to you for a long while.”