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 to ask you to come home with me and drink a pitcher of lemonade.

I can't today. I'm sorry.

Some other day. . . soon.

They bade each other farewell and went their separate ways, but Gareth walked very slowly and did not ascend the stone steps leading to the Poores' house until Lennie had disappeared over the brow of the hill. As he stood on the porch, about to ring the bell, two voices in unison from across the street sang out, Where did you get that hat? Those awful twins, Gareth muttered to himself, but he did not turn around. When Anna, answering the door, informed him that the Countess was out, he regretted that he had not followed his first instinct of waiting longer before accepting her invitation to call. He had overlooked the possibility of this contretemps. He fumbled for a card and left it with the maid. As he walked away he felt very dismal. It would now be impossible for him to repeat his call on the Countess for at least a week, and since he had come so near to seeing her he realized quite fully what a week's waiting would mean to him.

That evening, after Gareth and his father had eaten their cold supper together, Dr. Sinclair returned. Mrs. Johns had awakened at last. She was weak, but the pain was gone, her nerves were quiet. You'll be better in the morning, the doctor