Miss Houghton, now you and I can settle that little question we
were discussing. Charlotte, you rogue, you and Uncle Ray are at the
bottom of this! Ah, Doctor Churchill! This wouldn't have been complete
without our neighbour. Miss Atkinson, allow me to present Doctor
Churchill."
Thus John Lansing Birch accepted at once and with his accustomed ease
the role of host, and enjoyed himself immensely. Celia, watching him
from her couch, said suddenly to Captain Rayburn, who sat beside her:
"This is just what the family needed. If you hadn't come we should
probably have gone drudging on all winter without realising what was the
matter with us. No wonder poor Lanse appreciates it. He's had a month of
hard labour without an enlivening hour. And Charlotte--doesn't she look
like a fresh carnation to-night?"
"Very much," agreed the captain, with approving eyes on his younger
niece, who wore her best frock of French gray, a tint which set off her
warm colouring to advantage. Celia had thrust several of Captain
Rayburn's scarlet carnations into her sister's belt, with a result
gratifying to more than one pair of eyes.
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