The twins came occasionally, by special invitation, though nobody noticed that it was always Doctor Jack who suggested it. Once they brought a pan of Juliet's famous fudges, which were politely appreciated by the others and extravagantly praised by the Doctor. The following day he was rewarded by a private pan of especially rich fudges—but Romeo brought it, on his way to the post-office.
There was a daily card-party upon the upper veranda, and sometimes meals were served there. The piano had been moved upstairs into a back room. The whole-hearted devotion of the household was beautiful to behold, yet underneath it all, like an unseen current, was the tense strain of waiting.
It was difficult not to annoy Doctor Jack with questions. Rose and the Colonel continually reminded themselves and each other that he would be only too glad to bring encouragement at the moment he found it, and that by quiet and patience they could help him most.
Juliet had pleaded earnestly with Doctor Jack to save Allison's hand. "If you don't," she said, with uplifted eyes, "I'll be miserable all the rest of my life."
"Bless your little heart," the Doctor had answered, kindly; "I'd do 'most anything to keep you from being miserable, even the impossible, which happens to be my specialty."
She did not quite understand, but sent a burnt offering to the Doctor, in the shape of a chocolate cake. He had returned the compliment by sending her the biggest box of candy she had ever seen, and, as it arrived about noon, she and Romeo had feasted upon it until they could eat no more, and had been uncomfortably ill for two days. Romeo had attributed their misfortune to the candy itself, but Juliet believed that their constitutions had been weakened by their penitential fare, and, as soon as she was able, proved her point by finishing the last sweet morsel without painful results.
The Summer waned and tints of palest gold appeared here and there upon the maples. The warm wind had the indefinable freshness of the Autumn sea, blown far inland at dawn. Allison became impatient and restless, the Colonel went off alone for long, moody walks; even Doctor Jack began to show the effects of the long strain.
Only Rose was serene. Fortunately, no one guessed the tumult that lay beneath her outward calm. Her manner toward Allison was, if anything, more impersonal than ever, though she failed in no thoughtful kindness, no possible consideration. He accepted it all as a matter of course, but began to wish, vaguely, for something more.
He forebore to remind her of their strange relation, and could not allude to the night he had kissed her, while his fiancee stood near by. Yet, late one afternoon, when she had excused herself a little earlier than usual, he called her back.
"Rose?"