II + 

“He’s crazy about you,” said Muriel lightly. “It’s ridiculous for you to say you haven’t noticed it. Isn’t he crazy about her, Isabel?” + 

Muriel was sitting on Jane’s window-seat, looking out into the lemon-coloured leaves of the October willow. Isabel was perched on Jane’s bed. Little John Ward was standing in a baby pen in the centre of the room. Jane was sitting on the floor beside him. She had only been back three weeks from the West and a walking John Ward was still a provocative novelty. + 

“You never can tell with men,” said Isabel warily. + 

“I can tell,” said Muriel, shaking her black curls very sagely. “Last night at the Saddle and Cycle he never took his eyes off her.” + 

“Eyes aren’t everything,” said Isabel. “How about it, Jane?” + 

Jane looked up from the baby. She met their eager glances very coolly. + 

“Muriel’s a bride,” she said calmly. “She’s not responsible for her views on sentiment.” + 

“Stephen’s a lover!” retorted Muriel. “He’s not responsible for his. He looked at you across the table, Jane, as if he’d like to eat you.” + 

“How cannibalistic of him!” smiled Jane, cheerfully. “Somehow that picture doesn’t lead me on.” + 

“You’re a perfect idiot,” said Muriel, “if you don’t accept him.” Again she glanced at the bedstead for support. “Isn’t she, Isabel?” + 

Isabel became suddenly practical. + 

“What’s wrong with him, Jane?” she asked earnestly. “He’s young”⁠—her voice faltered a moment, with a glance at Muriel, over that qualification. She went hurriedly on, “And good-looking and he has plenty of money and a very good family and he’s your best friend’s cousin. I’d say he was made to order, if you asked me.” + 

“Why don’t you fancy him, Jane? You know he’s in love with you,” said Muriel accusingly. “You ought to have seen her last night, Isabel. You wouldn’t have known our Jane. She just wiped her feet on him.” + 

“Who does Jane wipe her feet on?” questioned Mrs. Ward’s voice. Jane’s mother stood, smiling, on the threshold. + 

“Stephen Carver,” said Muriel promptly, ignoring Jane’s warning eyebrow. + 

Mrs. Ward looked very much pleased. + 

“She’s a very foolish girl if she does,” she said advancing into the room. She cast an apprehensive glance at the baby. “Isabel, are you sure that there isn’t a draught on that floor?” Isabel moved a trifle restlessly on the bedstead. She didn’t stoop to reply. “Stephen Carver,” went on Mrs. Ward, “is a very charming young fellow. If Jane is wiping her feet on him she may find out when it’s too late that he’s not the stuff of which doormats are made.” + 

“Oh⁠—I think he likes it,” said Muriel. “He does like it, doesn’t he, Jane?” + 

Jane couldn’t help smiling a trifle self-consciously. Stephen did like to have her notice him anyway at all. He had been terribly glad to see her when she came back from the West. And she had been⁠—not terribly, but really very glad to see him. He had given her a whirl at all the early autumn parties. Last night at the Saddle and Cycle Club⁠—well⁠—Jane knew very well that she shouldn’t have acted just the way she did, since she didn’t love Stephen at all and wanted, so terribly, to make it perfectly clear to him that she never could. + 

“You’d like it, wouldn’t you, Mrs. Ward?” asked Muriel impishly. + 

Mrs. Ward looked a trifle disconcerted. She exchanged with Isabel a slightly embarrassed glance. Jane was more amused than anything, to see Muriel beating her mother and Isabel at their own game. Muriel would like nothing better than to go out onto Pine Street that very afternoon and say with conviction, “Mrs. Ward is setting her cap for Stephen Carver.” + 

“Every mother,” said Mrs. Ward a trifle sententiously, “would like her daughter’s happiness.” + 

Isabel rose from the bed. + 

“I’ve got to go, Jane,” she said. “Hand me Jacky.” + 

Jane picked up her nephew over the railing of the pen. His little arms twined confidently around her neck. His fat little diapered figure felt very firm and solid in her arms. It would be fun to have a baby, all your own, thought Jane. It would be fun to have a home of your own like Isabel and Muriel. However, there was more to marriage, Jane reflected very sagely, than a home and a baby. And she didn’t love Stephen. She didn’t love him at all. + 

Isabel took Jacky. + 

“I’ll walk along with you, Isabel,” said Muriel. “Goodbye, Jane. Don’t come down.” + 

Mrs. Ward turned to Jane as soon as the other two girls were out of hearing. She still looked pleased, and a little excited. + 

“What’s this, Jane,” she said, “about Stephen Carver?” + 

“Just Muriel’s nonsense,” said Jane. + 

“Is he really in love with you?” said Mrs. Ward. + 

“Oh, Mamma!” protested Jane very lightly. “You know Muriel.” + 

Mrs. Ward was looking at her very attentively. + 

“Has he asked you to marry him?” she said. + 

Jane hesitated for an almost imperceptible instant. + 

“Not⁠—not this fall,” she said. + 

“Last winter?” said Mrs. Ward very quickly. + 

Jane hesitated no longer. + 

“Of course not, Mamma. I hardly knew him last winter.” + 

Mrs. Ward looked rather puzzled. Jane felt very triumphant and only a little untruthful. May was not winter. + 

“He’s a very dear boy,” said Mrs. Ward impressively. “I like Stephen Carver.” + 

Jane made no comment. She began to fold up the baby pen. + 

“Your father admires him, too,” said Mrs. Ward. + 

“How about Isabel?” asked Jane sweetly. “And Robin? And the baby?” + 

Mrs. Ward laughed in spite of herself. + 

“They do all like him,” she said. + 

Families were terrible, thought Jane. But her eyes were twinkling. + 

“So if I did, too,” she said brightly, “it would make it unanimous.” + 

“Do you?” said Mrs. Ward. + 

“Mamma,” said Jane, “you are really shameless.” + 

She walked out of the room with the baby pen. She was going to put it away in the back hall. + 