"And yet you expect me to sympathize with your umbrella--"

"Oh, how beautiful!" exclaimed Miss Upton suddenly; for now the tinted, pearly pink cloud of the Barrys' apple-orchard came in view.

The house was a brick structure with broad verandas, set back among well-kept lawns and drives, and its fine elm trees were noted. Mrs.

Barry was reclining in a hammock-chair under one of them as the car drove in, and she rose and came to meet the guest. Miss Mehitable thought she looked like a queen as her erect, graceful figure moved across the lawn in the long silken cape that floated back and showed its violet lining.

"It's perfectly beautiful here to-day," she said as the hostess greeted her; "but, oh, Mrs. Barry, I suppose I'm a fool to ever believe Ben"--the speaker cast a glance around at her escort--"but you won't let him have a zebra, will you? They're the most dangerous animals. He says you're goin' to give him--"

"My dear Miss Upton," Mrs. Barry laughed, "I do need a scolding, I know.

I've allowed myself to be talked into something crazy--crazy. It's much worse than a zebra, but you know what a big disappointment Ben had last year--flapping his wings and aching and longing to go across the sea while Uncle Sam obstinately refused to let him go over and end the War?

All dressed up and no place to go! Poor Benny!" Mrs. Barry glanced at her son, laughing. "He did need some consolation prize, and anyway he persuaded me to let him have an aeroplane."

"Mrs.--_Barry_!" returned Miss Mehitable, and she gazed around at Ben with wide eyes.

"I'm such a bird, you see," he explained.

"Well," said the visitor after a pause, drawing her suspended breath, "I'm glad I can talk to you before you're killed."

"Oh, not so bad as that," said Mrs. Barry. "He is at home in the air, you know, and he a.s.sures me they will soon be quite common. Come up on the veranda, Miss Upton. I'm going to hide you and Ben in a corner where no one will disturb you."

"What a big place for you to live in all alone," observed Mehitable as they moved toward the house, and Ben drove the car to the garage.

"Yes, it is; but I'm so busy with my chickens and my bees I'm never lonely. I'm quite a farmer, Miss Upton. See how fine my orchard is this year? I tell Ben that so long as he doesn't light in my apple-trees we can be friends."

"I think you're awful venturesome, Mrs. Barry!"

That lady smiled as they moved up the steps to the veranda, the black and violet folds of her shimmering wrap blowing about her in lines of beauty that fascinated her companion.

"What else can the mother of a boy be?" she returned. "Ben has been training me in courage ever since he was born; apparently the prize-ring or the circus would have been his natural field of operations; so I have chained him down to the law and given him an aeroplane so he can work off his extra steam away from the publicity of earth."

At last the hostess withdrew, and Miss Upton found herself alone with her embryo lawyer in a sheltered corner of the porch where the vines were hastening to sprout their curtaining green, and a hammock, comfortable chairs, a table and books proclaimed the place an out-of-door sitting-room.

"Your mother is wonderful," she began when her companion had placed her satisfactorily and had stretched himself out in a listening att.i.tude, his hands clasped behind his head and his eyes on hers.

What eyes they were, Miss Upton thought. Clear and light-brown, the color of water catching the light in a swift, sunny brook.

"She is a queen," he responded with conviction.

"A pity such a woman hasn't got a daughter," said Miss Mehitable tentatively.

"I'm going to give her one some day." A smile accompanied this.

"Is she picked out?"

Ben laughed at his companion's anxious tone. "You seem interested in my prospects. That's the second time you have seemed worried at the idea.

No, she isn't picked out. I'm going to hunt for her in the stars. Why?

Have you some one selected?"

"Law, no!" returned Miss Upton, flushing. "It is a--yes, it is a girl I've come to talk to you about, though." The visitor stammered and grew increasingly confused as she proceeded. "I thought--I didn't know--the girl needs somebody--yes, to--to look after her and I thought your mother bein'--bein' all alone and the house so big, she might have some use for a--young girl, you know, a kind of a helper; but Charlotte says the girl would fall in love with you and--and--" Miss Upton paused, drawing her handkerchief through and through her hands and looking anxiously at her companion who leaned his head back still farther and laughed aloud.

"Come, now, that's the most sensible speech that ever fell from Lottie's rosebud lips." He sat up and viewed his visitor, who, in spite of her crimson embarra.s.sment, was gazing at him appealingly. "I don't believe, Mehit, my dear, that you've begun at the beginning, and you'll have to, you know, if you want legal advice."

"I never do, Ben; I am so stupid. I always do begin right in the middle, but now I'll go back. You know I went to the city yesterday."

"You and the umbrella."

"Yes, and I was mad at myself for luggin' it around all the mornin' when the weather turned out so pleasant and I had so many other things; but never _mind_"--the narrator tightened her lips impressively--"that umbrella was all _right_."

"Sure thing," put in Ben. "How could you have rescued the girl without it?"

Miss Upton's eyes widened. "How did you know I did?"

"The legal mind, you know, the legal mind."

"Oh, but I didn't rescue her near enough, not near enough," mourned Miss Mehitable. "I must go on. I got awful tired shoppin' and I went into a restaurant for lunch. I got set down to one table, but it was so draughty I moved to another where a young girl was sittin' alone. A man, a homely, long-necked critter made for that place too, but I got there first. I don't know whether I'm glad or sorry I did. Ben, she was the prettiest girl in this world."

Miss Upton paused to see if this solemn statement awakened an interest in her listener.

"Maybe," he replied placidly; "but then there are the stars, you know."

"She had lots of golden hair, and dark eyes and lashes, with kind o'

long dark corners to 'em, and a sad little mouth the prettiest shape you ever saw. We got to talkin' and she told me about herself. It was like a story. She had a cruel stepmother who didn't want her around, so kept her away at school, and a handsome, extravagant father without enough backbone to stand up for her; and on top of everything he died suddenly.

Her stepmother had money and she put this poor child in a cheap lodgin'-house tellin' her to find a job, and she herself went calmly off travelin'. This poor lamb tried one place after another, but her beauty always stood in her way. I'm ashamed to speak of such things to you, Ben, but I've got to, to make you understand. She said she wondered if there were any good men in this world. She was in despair."

Ben's eyes twinkled, but his lips were serious as he returned his friend's valiant gaze.

"Her name is Geraldine Melody. Did you ever hear such a pretty name?"

Miss Upton scrutinized her listener's face for some stir of interest.

"I never did. Your girl was a very complete story-teller. You blessed soul! and you've had all these thrills over that!" Ben leaned forward and took his companion's hand affectionately. "I didn't believe even you would fall for drug-store hair, darkened eyes, and that chestnut story.

What did the fair Geraldine touch you for?"

Miss Upton returned his compa.s.sionate gaze with surprise and indignation. "She didn't touch me. What do you mean? Why shouldn't she if she wanted to? I tell you her eyes and her story were all the truth, Ben Barry. I ain't a fool."

"No, dear, no. Of course. But how much did you give her?"

"Give her what?"

"Money."

"I didn't give her any, poor lamb." Into Miss Mehitable's indignant eyes came a wild look. "I wonder if I'd ought to have. I wonder if it would have helped any."

Ben gave a low laugh. "I'll bet she had the disappointment of her young life: to tell you that yarn, and tell it so convincingly, and yet dear old Mehit never rose to the bait!"

Miss Upton glared at him and pulled her hand away. He leaned back and resumed his former easy att.i.tude. "When are you going to reach the umbrella?" he asked.

"I've pa.s.sed it," snapped Miss Mehitable, angry and baffled. "I kept that long-necked, gawky man off with it, pretty near tripped him up so's I could get to the table with that poor child."