," said the voice, "to stand about hatless on
an April afternoon. Let us come in and sit on either side of the
chimney-corner."

And a long, dry, firm hand took Kirk's, and Kirk followed unhesitatingly
where it led.

The smoothness of old polished floors, a sense of height, absolute
silence, a dry, aromatic smell--this was Kirk's impression as he crossed
the threshold, walking carefully and softly, that he might not break
the spellbound stillness of the house. Then came the familiar crackle of
an open fire, and Kirk was piloted into the delicious cozy depths of a
big chair beside the hearth. Creakings, as of another chair being pulled
up, then a contented sigh, indicated that his host had sat down opposite
him.

"May I now ask your name?" the voice inquired.

"I'm Kirkleigh Sturgis, at Applegate Farm," said Kirk.

"' ... I s'pose you know, Miss Jean,
That I'm Young Richard o' Taunton Dean....'"

murmured the old gentleman.

Kirk pricked up his ears instantly. "Phil sings that," he said
delightedly. "I'm glad you know it. But you would."

"Who'd have thought _you_ would know it?" said the voice. "I am fond of
_Young Richard_. Is Phil your brother?"

"She's my sister--but I have a brother. He's sixteen, and he's almost as
high as the doorways at Applegate Farm."

"I seem not to know where Applegate Farm is," the old gentleman mused.

"It's quite next door to you," said Kirk.

"They call it the Baldwin place, really. But Ken happened to think that
Baldwin's a kind of apple, and there _is_ an orchard and a gate, so we
called it that."

"The old farm-house across the meadow!" There was a shade of perplexity
in the voice. "You live _there_?"

"It's the most beautiful place in the world," said Kirk, with
conviction, "except your garden."

"Beautiful--to you! Why?"

"Oh, everything!" Kirk said, frowning, and trying to put into words what
was really joy in life and spring and the love of his brother and
sister. "Everything--the wind in the trees, and in the chimney at night,
and the little toads that sing,--do you ever hear them?--and the fire,
and, and--_everything_!"

"And youth," said the old gentleman to himself, "and an unconscious
courage to surmount all obstacles. But perhaps, after all, the unseen
part of Applegate Farm is the more beautiful." Aloud, he said: "Do you
like to look at odd things? That is--I mean--"

Kirk helped him out. "I do like to," he said. "I look at them with my
fingers--but