"Not so bad, considering the roads."
Leo had sprung out and was throwing off her cloak and veil. "I hope we're not too late for luncheon. Mr. Bartol has the best cook, and I'm famished."
Her coming swept Victor back into his other and normal self, and he took charge of her with a mingling of reverence and audacity which charmed her. He went out into the dining-room with her and sat beside her while she ate. "I hope you're going to stay," he said, earnestly.
"Stay! Of course we'll stay. It's hot as July in the city—always is with the wind from the southwest. Isn't it heavenly out here?"
"Heavenly is the word; but who did it? Who organized it?"
"Mrs. Bartol. She had the best taste of any one—and her way with the servants was beyond imitation. They all worship her memory."
"I can't make myself believe I deserve all this," he said. "Your coming puts the frosting on my bun."
It was as if some new and utterly different spirit, or band of them, had come with this glowing girl. She radiated the vitality and the melody of youth. Without being boisterous or silly, she filled the house with laughter. "There's something about Hazeldean that always makes me happy. I don't know why," she said.
"You make all who inhabit this house happy," said Mrs. Ollnee. "I can hear spirit laughter echoing to yours."
"Can you? Is it Margaret?"