that she did not mean by them what others would have meant. But he said:
"When shall we expect them? Tuesday, I suppose, would be best for Clara,
after her weekend. Is there no chance of you and Tod?"

She quaintly wrinkled her lips into not quite a smile, and answered:

"Tod shall say. Do you hear, Tod?"

"In the meadow. It was there yesterday--first time this year."

Felix slipped his arm through his brother's.

"Quite so, old man."

"What?" said Tod. "Ah! let's go in. I'm awfully hungry...."

Sometimes out of a calm sky a few drops fall, the twigs rustle, and far
away is heard the muttering of thunder; the traveller thinks: 'A storm
somewhere about.' Then all once more is so quiet and peaceful that he
forgets he ever had that thought, and goes on his way careless.

So with Felix returning to Becket in Stanley's car. That woman's face,
those two young heathens--the unconscious Tod!

There was mischief in the air above that little household. But once more
the smooth gliding of the cushioned car, the soft peace of the meadows
so permanently at grass, the churches, mansions, cottages embowered
among their elms, the slow-flapping flight of the rooks and crows lulled
Felix to quietude, and the faint far muttering of that thunder died
away.