“Dear me,” she said, “I’m afraid it’s axle grease!  Mournful Mark gave me a lift this morning.”

“Oh, I hope not!” anxiously from Aunt Amy, and referring, presumably, to the grease.

The doctor looked at the little stray curl on the nape of the graceful neck and wished—­all the foolish things that lovers have wished since the world began.  But he had a great longing to see her eyes.  If he were to say sharply, “Look at me!” would she look up?  Absurd idea!  And anyway he couldn’t say it, or anything else, for the first time in his life Henry Callandar was tongue-tied.

Did she, too, feel strange?  Was that why she kept her eyes so persistently lowered?  No, it could hardly be that.  She laughed and talked quite naturally—­seemed entire mistress of herself.

“I know I am late, Auntie.  It’s Friday, you know, and I walked slowly.  I forgot that I had promised to help Jane wash the new pup.  But there is time yet.  Supposing we have tea, English fashion, out here.  I’ll tell mother—­”

“She is at the Ladies Aid, Esther.”

“Oh, yes.  I forgot.  Well, then you must entertain Dr. Callandar while I see about tea.”

“No tea for me, thanks,” said the doctor hastily.  He didn’t know why he said it except that he wanted to say something, something which might make her look at him.

But she did not look.  His refusal lost him a cup of tea and gained him nothing whatever.

“No tea?” Her tone was mildly wondering, but she was looking at Aunt Amy while she spoke.  “I’m sorry you are in a hurry.  Bubble said you were busy.”

“Not busy exactly.  But it’s office hours, you know.  My partner grows quite waxy if I’m late, and I’m late now.”

“Another day, then?” Esther’s tone was charmingly gracious, but she seemed to be addressing the gate post, as far as he could judge from the direction of her gaze.

Callandar picked up his hat, gloomily.  There was nothing to do now but take his leave.  And if he had had any sense he might have been going to stay for tea.  Office hours be hanged!

“Thank you, another day I shall be delighted.”  He took the hand she offered and bowed over it.  Delightful custom this of shaking hands!  Esther’s hand was cool as a wind-blown leaf.  Would she actually say good-bye without looking at him?  He held the hand firmly but she did not seem to be conscious that he held it.  She was smiling at some children who were going by on the sidewalk.

“Good-bye,” said Callandar in a subdued voice.

“Good-bye,” said Esther sweetly.

He dropped her hand, they bowed formally, and the foolish, poignant little tragedy of parting was over.  Not once had they looked into each other’s eyes.

When he had gone Esther sank down upon the elm tree seat.

“Oh, Auntie!” she said with a little sob in her voice.  “I want—­some tea!”

Aunt Amy glanced irresolutely from the open letter in her hand to the girl’s face, and decided to postpone the matter of the letter.  “I’ll get it, Esther.  You sit here and rest.”