"This morning."
They shook hands, but there was no sign of a welcome in Porter's face.
"Pretty stiff storm," he remarked, as the three of them stood by the drawing-room window, looking out.
The rain came in shining sheets—the lightning blazed—the thunder boomed.
"It is the first thunder-storm of the season," Mary said. "It will wake up the world."
"In the South," Roger said, "the world is awake. You should see our gardens."
"I wish I could; Cousin Patty asked me to come."
"Will you?" eagerly.
"There's my work."
"Take a holiday, and let me show you the pines."