“Sally, what are you thinking of!” her mother said.

“Look out—­look out!” Sally said, swinging the glass up and down.  Suddenly she set it back on the table firmly.  “You deserve that straight in your face, Jim, but Mother’d be mad!”

“Well, I should think Mother would!” Mrs. Toland said, in smiling reproof.  “But we interrupted Bab, I think.  Bab had something dreadfully important to say,” she added playfully, “to judge from that great big frown!”

“It wasn’t dreadfully important at all,” Barbara said, in cold annoyance.

“Oh, wasn’t it?  And what was it, dear?”

“It was simply—­it was nothing at all,” Barbara protested, reddening.  “I was just thinking that we have to have that rehearsal at the clubhouse this afternoon, and I was wondering if Jim would walk down there with me now, and see about getting the room ready—–­”

“Dad’s got an eleven-o’clock operation, and I’m going to assist,” said Jim.

“Did you forget that, dear?” Mrs. Toland asked.

“It’s of no consequence,” said Barbara, her voice suddenly thick with tears.  Her hand trembled as she reached for a muffin.

“Keith, do you want to go down with us to the rehearsal this afternoon?” said Sally amiably to the little guest.

“Oh, I don’t think the whole pack of us ought to go!” Ted protested in alarm.  “You aren’t going to let Janey and Con go, are you, Mother?”

“Oh, why not?” Mrs. Toland asked soothingly.  Barbara here returned to the discussion with a tragic:  “Mother, they can’t!  It would look perfectly awful!”

“Well, you don’t own the yacht club, you know, Babbie,” Ted supplied sweetly.

“Well,” said Barbara, rising, and speaking quickly in a low voice, “of course the whole family, including Addie and Hee, can troop down there if they want to, but I think it’s too bad that I can’t do a thing in this family without being tagged by a bunch of kids!”

The door closed behind her; they could hear her running upstairs.

“Now she’ll cry; she’s getting to be an awful cry baby,” said Janey, wide eyed, pleasurably excited.

“Doesn’t seem very well, does she, Mummie?  Not a bit like herself,” said the head of the house, raising mild eyebrows.

“Now, never mind; she’s just a little bit tired and excited over this ‘Amazon’ thing,” Mrs. Toland assured him cheerfully, “and she’ll have a little talk with Mother by and by, and be her sweet self again by lunch time!”

The little episode was promptly blotted out by the rising tide of laughter and conversation that was usual at breakfast.  Miss Toland presently drifted into the study for some letter writing.  Jim took a deep porch rocker, and carried off the morning papers.  Richie, sitting at his father’s left, squared about for one of the eager rambling talks of which he and his father never tired.  The doctor’s blue eyes twinkled over his theories of religion, science, history, poetry, and philosophy.  Richie’s lean, colourless face was bright with interest.  Ted volunteered, as she often volunteered of late, to go for the mail, and sauntered off under a red parasol, and Mrs. Toland slipped from the table just in time to waylay her oldest son in the hall.