Helen had settled herself at her reading one morning, when Mrs. Disbrowe just paused at the door with her baby in her arms, and nodded to Mrs. Van Dorn.
"Excuse me for interrupting, but there is a young man down on the porch who wishes to see Helen. He would not come in."
Helen glanced up in amaze, then smiled, as she raised her eyes to Mrs. Van Dorn.
"I think it is the young man from the library. Perhaps he found the book you wanted."
"Ah—that is quite likely. Run down and see."
Helen put her marker in, and laid down her book. But when she reached the porch and the caller rose from the wicker rocker, she stretched out both her hands with a glad cry of surprise:
"Oh, Mr. Warfield!"
He glanced at her, held her off and studied her again.
"Why, you have grown or changed or something," he exclaimed in surprise. "And it has only been such a little while! You look as if you were really glad to see me," and the smile gave him such a cordial expression.
"Oh, I am. You can't think how glad. And it is so unexpected——"