At dinner Miss Whitcom was treated to an entrancing account of the Assembly Roast, viewed as an institution.

"Of course," explained the Rev. Needham, "in the largest sense it's a religious function—a kind of general get-together, before the lecture season opens." It seemed a now more cautious way of reiterating that the church must advertise.

"But you see," contributed Mrs. Needham, "it was started by the Goodmans. He's a clergyman from Cleveland."

"It's their anniversary," added Hilda.

Thus, piecemeal, the momentous facts came out.

"Anniversary?"

"Yes, Aunt Marjie."

"Let's see—how many is it this year?" asked Mrs. Needham turning to her husband.

"Twenty-seventh or twenty-eighth, I think," he replied.

"Oh, Alf, do you think the Goodmans have been married that long?"

"You know," declared Miss Whitcom, "all this is interesting but terribly mysterious. Thanks, Anna, I've had the pickles. I'm mystified by these[Pg 231] Goodmans from Cleveland. So I understand the Midsummer Roast is in the nature of an anniversary party also?"

"Well, yes," replied Anna Needham. "It was started, I guess, more than twenty years ago, even before we began coming up here. There were only a few families at first. Alf, were the Goodmans the first to begin coming up?"

"Unless it was Blakes," he suggested.

"But didn't the Blakes begin coming because the Goodmans did, Alf?"

"Well, maybe so. Marjory, can't I help you to a little more of the lamb?"

"No, no," protested his sister-in-law. "I'm doing famously."

"Alf, Marjie will have some more potatoes, I'm sure."

"No. Doing famously. Never mind my plate, but do let's get it straight about the Goodmans. Thanks, Hilda, I will have another biscuit. It all sounds terribly romantic!"

"Yes, it is," Hilda boldly assured her. "They always kiss right before everybody on their anniversary. And in the morning—"

"Hilda!" cautioned her father, rather sternly.

The girl endeavoured to conceal her confusion by addressing herself very elaborately to the spreading of a biscuit.

"Oh, now, Alfred," remonstrated his sister-in-law, "you're worse than a war censor! Since it's[Pg 232] quite apparent the whole Point knows about the kissing—Anna, may I trouble you for another glass of water?—why shouldn't I be admitted to so very large a secret? There's surely room for one more, and you may pledge me to profound secrecy if you like. I'm dying to know what it is they do in the morning!"

Hilda was gaining back her nerve. "They run away and have breakfast together at the hotel! That's what they do, Aunt Marjie!"

"Oh, how charming!"

"Yes, Aunt Marjie, they've done it every year since they were married!"

"They have? Well, now, I call that pure romance! How coy! How it must carry them back! I think I'd really like to know the Goodmans. There isn't such a great deal of pure romance available nowadays. People are too self-conscious."

"You'll meet them tonight," was the hope Mrs. Needham held out. And then, while her husband began carving fresh slices of lamb, and since the subject of the Midsummer Roast seemed about exhausted, Anna went chattily on: "Marjie, I must say I like Mr. O'Donnell real well."

"Speaking of pure romance?" her sister sparklingly interpolated. "Yes," she continued, "Barrett's a good chap. Used to be a bit egregious, you know, in the old days. But he's mellowed wonderfully. I—I'll let you in on a tremendous secret," she added, with mock breathlessness, and addressing herself to[Pg 233] Alfred behind her hand. "If he should happen to ask me again—I'm only saying if, you understand...." She finished eloquently in pantomime.

The Rev. Needham dropped his fork, but quickly recovered it and went on eating. He had just told himself that no matter what new monstrosity his sister-in-law might enunciate, he would magnificently let it pass. He would not appear to notice it. He was a clergyman. There was a certain dignity to be preserved in spite of everything. But good heavens, she had said it behind her hand!

"Oh-h-h!" said Hilda. She giggled.

"Barrett is an old peach," continued Miss Whitcom quite brazenly. "He's stood by me through everything!"

The Rev. Needham nearly dropped his fork again. That awful word. Everything! And she could be so damnably cool about it! Was he narrow or old-fashioned to feel the way he did? Yet would not feeling any other way be simply debauching oneself? Ah, if, instead of his changing his own point of view, she might somehow drop off into a deep, painless slumber.... And never wake....

"Well, then," said Anna, who had kept perfectly her head, and was also rather thrilled, "I hope he will, Marjie."

Marjory looked dreamily off through the open window. A few birches caught the evening light mistily, and were dyed a delicate pink all along their slim white trunks. Would he? Ah, of course! And[Pg 234] yet.... Well—hm?... If not, why.... She mentally tossed her head. But what she told herself was not quite so haughty: "In that case I could hardly blame anybody but myself...."

By this time it might be said that the edge, at least, of hunger was taken off. All had eaten quite heartily, except Louise. But even Louise, though she dimly felt this was not as it should be, had found it possible to do at least a little nibbling. Of course it would be out of the question to expect her to eat like the rest. It was another case of Richard. Probably she would not eat just like the rest for a good while to co............