"Mercifully not; and yet we were all queer sticks," Theodora observed tranquilly. "We appear to be working out our own salvation, though, whether it's writing or bones, and Allyn will probably follow our example when he is old enough."

"I wish he might. He is giving me more trouble than all the rest of you put together, and the worst of it is that I don't know whether he needs a tonic or a thrashing." The good doctor knitted his brows and endeavored to look stern. "I suspect it is the latter," he added.

Theodora shook her head gayly.

"It wouldn't be of any use, papa. We must bide our time. Allyn is queer, most mortal queer; but these may be the mutterings of genius, a volcanic genius that is getting ready to erupt."

"I never regarded bad temper as a sign of genius."

"Perhaps not. But, even if it isn't, thrashings only leave callous spots.

You'd better try the tonic."

They had been walking up and down the front lawn. Now they turned, as by common consent, and strolled away towards a more distant part of the grounds.

"Is anything new the trouble?" Theodora asked, after an interval.

"No; only that his school reports get worse and worse, and that he appears to have a perfect genius for losing friends."

"Even the warty James?"

The doctor laughed.

"I can't blame him for half his antipathies," he said; "and that makes it hard for me to corner him in an argument. The boy was born with a hatred of dirt and of lying and of toadying, and he is utterly intolerant of anybody who shows anything of the three. His theories are all right, only his way of carrying them out makes him rather unpopular. But what is worrying me now is his school work. He isn't stupid; but his marks are away below par."

"You might try the tonic," Theodora said. "But what about Babe?"

"Don't ask me, Ted. That girl defies prediction. She always did. One day, I think she will bring glory to us all; the next, I want to turn her out of my office. She is as smart as a steel trap; but she is as lawless as Allyn. It's in a different way. I blame them both; but I am sorry for him, while I want to shake Phebe. She could do anything she chose, but she never really chooses. Sometimes I think she is only playing with her study. The next day, she astonishes me by some brilliant stroke that makes me forgive all her past laziness. She's splendid stuff, Ted, only she needs a balance-wheel. The fact is, the girl is selfish. She isn't working for love of her profession and the good it can do to others; all she cares for is the pleasure she takes in it, the pride that it brings her. That may do in some lines; but a doctor must think beyond that and outside of himself and his own interests."

"That's true of most of us," Theodora said; "at least, that is what we are aiming at."

"Some of us; not all. Teddy, you are a comfort to your old father."

"Even if I did help to turn his hair grey?"

He shook his head.

"You used to rush headlong into things, Ted; but you never went very far astray, and now--"

Theodora seized his arm.

"Hush!" she said, pointing to the shady spot under the trees where Allyn lay on the gra.s.s with Cicely by his side. The girl was bareheaded, and one shaft of sunlight, slanting down between the oak leaves above her, struck across her brown hair and across her hand as it lay on Allyn's outstretched palm.

"Come, papa, let's leave them there," she added. "Cicely is a better doctor for Allyn than either you or I."

It was the third day after her talk with Theodora, and Cicely had not so much as caught a glimpse of Allyn, though she had dropped in at The Savins repeatedly, on the chance of finding him at home. Whether the boy had turned his back upon the world, or was merely trying to keep out of her way, she was at a loss to determine. However, she saw no use in taking the whole family into her confidence, and she apparently gave her entire attention to Mrs. McAlister and Phebe, while in reality her grey eyes were keeping a sharp lookout for the missing boy.

At last she made up her mind that indirect methods were useless. Siege failing, she determined to carry the place by a.s.sault.

"Where is Allyn?" she demanded, as she came up the steps of The Savins with Melchisedek at her heels.

"I don't know. Get away! Shoo! Cicely, do call your horrid dog away." And Phebe brandished a scalpel threateningly.

"Here, Melchisedek, come here!"

But Melchisedek, his paws planted on the hem of Phebe's skirt, was barking madly and making little lunges at something in her lap.

"Get out! Ugh! Do go away! Cicely, call him!"

Cicely stooped and caught up the wriggling little creature who protested loudly, as she tucked him under her arm.

"Might I inquire what that choice morsel is, Phebe?" she asked disdainfully.

"It's a chicken's gizzard," Phebe answered shortly.

"Oh, and you were having a private lunch out here. Beg pardon for disturbing you." Cicely's eyes were dancing, and the dimples in her cheeks were at their deepest; but Phebe never looked up. "Poor little Melchisedek!" the girl went on. "Wouldn't his old Aunt Babe give him one little bittie piece? Well, it was too bad. Do you lunch out here from choice, Babe; or were you sent away from the table?"

"Don't be silly, Cicely. Can't you see I am studying it?"

"What for?"

"To see how it's made."

"Oh, then it's science, not hunger. It's all right, Melchisedek; she is learning things, not eating them. But what was it you said about Allyn?"

"Nothing."

"Please do say something, then. I want him."

"Ask mother," Phebe said absently. "Oh-h, there now!"

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, only it's tough. Do go on."

"Gizzards generally are. If I can do you any little good turn in the way of table sc.r.a.ps, Babe, don't hesitate to mention it." And Cicely departed in search of Mrs. McAlister.

"No," she said; "I mustn't stay. I only want Allyn."

"I saw him go across the hill, just after lunch. He had a book with him, and you may find him reading, somewhere over there. Don't hurry."

"Thank you; I must go." And she went away across the lawn.

She found Allyn quite at the farther side of the grounds, lying in the tall June gra.s.s with his arms folded under his head. Face down beside him was a book; but his thoughts were elsewhere and quite apart from the great tree above him into which he was staring so fixedly. Instinctively he had chosen the most beautiful spot in the grounds where the land sloped away to the west, across a salt marsh all bright with greeny brown gra.s.ses, and onward into the open country beyond. At the north, a faint line of white smoke marked the path of a pa.s.sing train; at the south could be seen a small blue patch of ocean.

In the thick gra.s.s, Cicely's steps were noiseless, and Melchisedek considerately neglected to bark, so Allyn was unconscious of her approach. He started suddenly, as she dropped down at his side.

"What do you want?" he asked gruffly.