"Won't you take a seat," asked Helen, hospitably, and he accepted at once while she introduced Miss Webster and herself and he gave his name as Chester Newcomb.

"Oh, yes; I've often heard Carl speak of you," declared Helen, and then she had to excuse herself to answer Ruth who was calling to her vociferously from upstairs.

"I'm afraid Nan has had bad news," she said, anxiously. "Excuse me, please. I'll go and see what she wants and be back directly."

Mr. Newcomb and Miss Webster fell at once into an easy chat. That is, Miss Webster did. She rattled on in her least attractive manner, and became so absorbed that she only noticed how long Helen had been absent when Mr. Newcomb rose to go and she had not yet returned.

"Pray don't call her," he entreated. "She probably is very much engaged. I--I am spending a couple of weeks here and shall be charmed to come again if I may."

Miss Webster could only in turn a.s.sure him that she--that Helen and she would also be charmed, and then he bowed himself off, striding down the path with a free, somewhat boyish swing, and disappearing at length in the shadow of the shrubbery.

He came frequently after that and the girls began to chaff Miss Webster about her "conquest" for he never seemed to care to come when the rest were about, but chose such times for his calls when he and Alice could stroll in the garden after dusk or sit and watch the sea and the stars from the shadow of the broad veranda.

It was very romantic and Miss Webster wore a dreamy, rapt expression nowadays that sent Nan and Ruth off into fits of laughter when they were out of the range of her eyes and ears.

"What a pity it is he can't be here to see?" gasped Ruth.

"Oh, he sees enough, never you fear," Nan a.s.sured her. "When one casts sheep's eyes like that they hit even in the dark! Poor thing! She is such a goose. Last night when he told her he was going to-morrow she grew quite tragic and--"

"O Nan! How could you listen?" cried Ruth in a shocked voice but immediately after going into another spasm of laughter.

"She quotes Shakespeare at him," gasped Nan, convulsed with mirth, and not a bit abashed. "You ought to hear. It's rich!"

"Well, we must see that the coast is clear to-night for I s'pose she will be particularly touching, and Helen is getting awfully hard to manage. It wouldn't do to interrupt them at the last minute just when he was getting pathetic maybe. I wonder what he'll do?"

"He'll be real dignified," declared Nan, solemnly. "You wait. He'll be eloquent even if he is 'only a boy' as she says."

So the two girls disappeared utterly after dinner, and when Mr. Newcomb arrived he found Miss Webster quite alone, for Helen also was nowhere to be seen.

"She hasn't been very well lately," Miss Webster explained. "She looks terribly pale and anxious and I'm afraid she has something on her mind.

Her headaches worry me!" and then she fell back into her poor, little artificial manner again and sighed and looked sentimental and was altogether "idiotic" as Nan would have said, and their two low-pitched voices could be heard murmuring away in the stillness until poor Helen, who was really half sick with a nervous headache upstairs, could have cried with irritation and pain.

She sat up on the bed when Ruth came into the room, and attacked her at once.

"I can't stand it another minute. It's driving me wild!"

"Hush! It's only to-night. This is the last time. Don't make a scene!" pleaded Ruth.

"I'll never get over it," wailed Helen. "It simply is the most detestable thing I ever knew. In our own house too! If this weren't the last time I--"

What she would do was never discovered for just at that moment a shrill scream ran through the night, followed by the exclamation in a familiar voice:

"Great Scott! My wig!"

And Ruth and Helen rushed below to find Miss Webster in a state of collapse on one of the veranda settees and Nan standing over her, clad in complete male attire, and fanning her frantically with a curly, blonde wig which she wrenched by force from the trellis where it had inadvertently caught.

"I was just leaning back and being beautiful, and it got hooked on a wire or something, and when I went to get up it stayed there and gave me away!" she promptly explained.

Then there was a scene.

Miss Webster wept! Nan lamented! Ruth laughed, and Helen scolded, and no one heard a word any one else was saying.

But after a time every one grew calmer.

"O Helen! I've made such a fool of myself," cried Alice abjectly.

"How can you ever respect me again?"

"Respect you? Think of me!" sobbed Helen. "Can you ever forgive me for knowing it all this time and letting it go on? Nan, you wretched girl, come here this minute and beg Miss Webster's pardon. Ruth Andrews, this is your work, Miss! See what you have done, and in your own house, too!"

But at this time Alice surprised them all. She put a gentle hand on Helen's arm and said quite simply, and with a touching dignity:

"Please don't ask anybody to beg my pardon. I deserved the lesson!

The girls needn't say a word. I--I--I am a goose, but I'll really try to be better, and the kindest thing they can do is never to refer to it again."

The rare tears sprang to Nan's eyes, and she grasped Miss Webster's hand in a grip that hurt.

"You're downright fine!" she said, "and I'll never forget you as long as I live."

And then she had to beat a hasty retreat to escape Mr. Andrews and his wife, who were just driving up to the door.

But the secret leaked out, and she and Ruth were reprimanded sharply by Mrs. Andrews who, for once in her life, turned severe and called them sternly to account, and it was Alice Webster herself who interceded for them, and begged that everything be forgiven and forgotten.

They were her devoted slaves after that, and Nan, whose fortnight had been extended, at the Andrews' request, to a month, took especial delight in fetching and carrying for her to the close of her stay, and in every possible manner making her feel how sincerely she regarded and respected her.

As for Miss Webster, she seemed like another girl. In fact, Carl Andrews declared that he had never known what a "good sort" she was and said he was mighty glad they had prevailed upon her to stay.

He never knew why the mere mention of his friend, Chester Newcomb's name should cause such a convulsion in the household, and when that gentleman finally arrived, and the family met him for the first time, it certainly seemed strange that they should all redden and stammer as if they had been "awkward nursery children appearing at dinner."

Nan especially could not be induced to have anything to say when he was near, and when Carl discovered this he took a mischievous delight in forcing her into his company and watching her try to "squirm" out of it again. Miss Webster took pity on her and in the simplest, most natural way came to her rescue whenever she was being victimized, and by and by it became apparent even to Carl himself that "Ches and Miss Webster hit it off first-rate."

But at last Nan's visit really drew to a close, and, in spite of her reluctance at leaving these good friends, she felt satisfied to go home--she did not stop to ask herself why.

Town seemed very stuffy and tame after the freedom of the country and the sea, but when Miss Blake asked her if she would like to go away again she replied: "Not alone," and then blushed shamefacedly and tried to change the subject.

While she was gone the governess had committed an extravagance. She had bought a new bicycle.

"What under the sun did you do that for?" demanded Nan. "Your other was a beauty and as good as new."

"But it wasn't new," suggested Miss Blake, lamely.

"Pooh!" sniffed Nan.

"I wanted this year's model."

"Oh, very well! If you can be as particular as all that! How much did they allow you on the other machine? I hope you made a good bargain,"

said Nan.

"I didn't let them have the other machine," hesitated Miss Blake. "It didn't seem worth while. Besides I may want to use it myself sometimes. Won't you come down and see the new one?"