He came up to them, his glance resolutely averted from Cherry, explaining that he was lonesome, assuring them that everything went well, and making them laugh with an account of Justin Little’s reception of the new turn of affairs.  Alix asked a hundred questions; laughed and rejoiced.

“To-morrow let’s go down and see the old house,” suggested Alix, “I guess it’s in pretty bad shape, for we couldn’t rent it.  At least Pete and I didn’t think it was worth while to do all the plastering and painting they wanted!  But we’ll do it now, Cherry; we’ll fix it all up, and then every summer, and perhaps some winters—­at least if Mart isn’t too far away—­you can live there.  Did you see Anne, Peter?” she asked, suddenly.

“No, just Justin.  He seemed absolutely dumbfounded,” Peter said.  “He looked at the paper, read it, laughed, and said—­in that little nervous, smiling way of his—­that he felt it to be by no means conclusive—­”

“I can hear him!” giggled Alix.

“And I guess both you girls will have to come in in a day or two,” Peter continued.

“Cherry’s going in to the dentist to-morrow,” said Alix.

“Oh, so I am!” Cherry said, in a rather strained voice.

She did not look at Peter, nor did he at her, but they felt each other’s thoughts like a spoken word.

“Had you forgotten?” Alix asked.  “I may go with you,” she added, carelessly.

“Oh, do come!” Cherry said, eagerly.  “I—­I hate so going alone!”

“I’ve not a thing in the world to do in town, but I’ll browse along those old book stores in Third Street,” Alix mused.

But in the morning she had changed her mind.  She was a trifle late to breakfast, and Cherry and Peter had a chance minute or two alone.

“Cherry,” he said then, “I’m going to lunch at the St. Francis.  Will you meet me there?”

“No, I can’t!” Cherry whispered, unhappily.

“Well, I’ll be there,” Peter said, in a dull, steady voice.  They did not look at each other as Cherry began, with trembling white ringers, to strip the black fine skin from a fig.

A moment later Alix joined them.  She had come in from her ducks, and ate but a hasty and indifferent breakfast so that she might the sooner begin to prepare their meal.  The ducks had been regaled of late on the minced remains of all the family meals, Alix spending an additional half-hour at the table while she cut fruit-rinds, cold biscuits, and vegetables into small pieces, for her gluttonous pensioners.

“Wait for the ten o’clock train, Pete, and go in with Cherry!” said Alix, holding a small piece of omelet close to the nose of the importunate Buck.  “Go on, be a sport!—­Don’t you dare,” she added, to the dog, who rolled restless and entreating eyes, banged his tail on the floor, and allowed a faint, disconsolate whimper to escape him.  “I don’t think I’ll go in,” she explained, “for I have about a week’s work here to do.