That afternoon she called on Mrs. Lancaster.  It was in the Spring, and she put on a dainty gown she had just made.

She was received with the sincere cordiality that Alice Lancaster always showed her.  She was taken up to her boudoir, a nest of blue satin and sunshine.  And there, of all occupations in the world, Mrs. Lancaster, clad in a soft lavender tea-gown, was engaged in mending old clothes.  “For my orphans,” she said, with a laugh and a blush that made her look charming.

A photograph of Keith stood on the table in a silver frame.  When, however, Lois would have brought up the subject of Mr. Keith, his name stuck in her throat.

“I have what the children call ‘a swap’ for you,” said the girl, smiling.

Mrs. Lancaster smiled acquiescingly as she bit off a thread.

“I heard some one say the other day that you were one of those who ’do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.’”

“Oh, how nice!  I am not, at all, you know.  Still, it is pleasant to deceive people that way.  Who said it?”

“Mr. Keith.”  Lois could not help blushing a little; but she had broken the ice.

“And I have one to return to you.  I heard some one say that you had ’the rare gift of an absolutely direct mind.’  That you were like George Washington:  you couldn’t tell a lie—­that truth had its home in your eyes.”  Her eyes were twinkling.

“My!  Who said that?” asked the girl.

“Mr. Keith.”

Lois turned quickly under pretence of picking up something, but she was not quick enough to hide her face from her friend.  The red that burned in her cheeks flamed down and made her throat rosy.

Mrs. Lancaster looked at the young girl.  She made a pretty picture as she sat leaning forward, the curves of her slim, light-gowned figure showing against the background of blue.  Her face was pensive, and she was evidently thinking deeply.

“What are you puzzling over so?”

At the question the color mounted into her cheeks, and the next second a smile lit up her face as she turned her eyes frankly on Mrs. Lancaster.

“You would be amused to know.  I was wondering how long you had known Mr. Keith, and what he was like when he was young.”

“When he was young!  Do you call him old now?  Why, he is only a little over thirty.”

“Is that all!  He always seems much older to me, I do not know why.  But he has seen so much—­done so much.  Why, he appears to have had so many experiences!  I feel as if no matter what might happen, he would know just what to do.  For instance, that story that Cousin Norman told me once of his going down into the flooded mine, and that night at the theatre, when there was the fire—­why, he just took charge.  I felt as if he would take charge no matter what might happen.”

Mrs. Lancaster at first had smiled at the girl’s enthusiasm, but before Lois had finished, she had drifted away.