Chester. "How is Miss Isobel taking it?"
"Better than you would think. I don't know what has come over Aunt
Isobel, she's so much nicer than she used to be. The boys out at the
hospital have made her over."
"Miss Isobel's a pippin," said Quin, in a tone that implied a compliment.
"You ought to have seen how she looked after me when I was sick. Has
Madam found out about her going out to camp?"
"Yes; but she hasn't stopped her. Something you said once about everybody
having a right to do his duty as he saw it made Aunt Isobel take a firm
stand and stick it out. You have certainly jolted the family out of its
ruts, Quin. Look at Uncle Ranny; would you ever take him for the same
person he was six months ago?"
Quin removed his enamored gaze from her face long enough to glance toward
the house, where the usually elegant useless Randolph was perched in the
crotch of an old ash tree, sawing off a dead limb, and singing as he
sawed.
"Well, when it comes to him, I guess I _have_ had a finger in the pie,"
said Quin with pardonable pride. "He hasn't slipped the trolley for two
months; and if he can stay on the track now, it will be a cinch for him
after the first of July.
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