JIM, standing on the Quimpaug boat-landing and shuffling over the mail, tossed a letter down to Elspeth, who sat in the stern of the dory.

"There's a pleasant little missive," said he. "The abhorred Blue Envelope! The death-warrant of a perfectly good Day, I suppose."

"Oh, what a bore!" groaned Elspeth, opening the envelope. "Don't look so alarmed, Joan. It's just that the doctor wants to see Garth. To-morrow, of course, Jim! Why does he never leave us time to change the appointment? It might be horribly inconvenient."

"Farewell, bright morrow!" sighed Jim, taking the oars. He turned to Joan. "This happens about twice a year," he said, "and Elspeth and Garth journey for millions of hot or cold miles, whichever the case may be. Them