On the hearth rug, where Laura had sat, Page’s searching eye discovered traces of her occupancy⁠—a glove button, a white thread, a hairpin. Page was at great pains to gather them up carefully and drop them into the waste basket.

“Laura is so flyaway,” she observed, soberly.

When Laura told the news to Aunt Wess’ the little old lady showed no surprise.

“I’ve been expecting it of late,” she remarked. “Well, Laura, Mr. Jadwin is a man of parts. Though, to tell the truth, I thought at first it was to be that Mr. Corthell. He always seemed so distinguished-looking and elegant. I suppose now that that young Mr. Court will have a regular conniption fit.”

“Oh, Landry,” murmured Laura.