n it once
again; I'll find the summer-house where I sat beside her," and he had
acted upon his impulse. No one was about. Within and without, the house
seemed lapped in quiet. He had been given to understand that the ladies
were busy with household matters, and he believed the Carys to have
ridden to Greenwood. That afternoon he would mount Selim, and with Joab
would go home to the house on the Three-Notched Road.

After the rain of the night before the garden was cool and sweet. The
drops yet lay on the tangle of old-fashioned flowers, on the box and
honeysuckle and the broad leaves of the trees where all the birds were
singing. The gravel paths were wet and shining. Rand walked slowly, here
and there, between the lines of box or under arching boughs, his mind
now trying to bring back the day when he had walked there as a boy, now
wondering with a wistful passion if he was to leave Fontenoy without
again seeing Jacqueline. He meant to leave without one word that the
world might not hear, but he thought it hard that he must go without a
touch of the hand, without a "From my heart I thank you for your
kindness. Good-bye, good-bye!" That would not be much; Fontenoy might
give him that.

He reached an edge of the garden where a thread-like stream trickled
under a bank of periwinkle, phlox, and ivy, and on through a little wood
of cedars. The air was cool beneath the trees, and Rand raised his
forehead to the blowing wind. The narrow pathway turned, and he came
upon Deb and Miranda seated upon the bare, red earth and playing with
flower dolls.

Deb had before her a parade of morning-glories, purple and white, pink
and blue, while Miranda sat in a ring of marigolds and red columbines.
Each was slowly swaying to and fro, murmuring to herself, and
manipulating with small, darting fingers her rainbow throng of ladies.
Rand, unseen, watched the manoeuvres for a while, then coughed to let
them know he was there, and presently sat down upon a root of cedar, and
gave Deb his opinion of the flower people. Children and he were always
at their ease together.

"Hollyhocks make the finest ladies," he announced gravely. "Little Miss
Randolph puts snapdragon caps upon them and gives them scarfs of ribbon
grass."

"Hollyhocks are not in bloom," said Deb. "I use snapdragon for caps,
too.--Now she has on a red and gold cap. This is a currant-leaf shawl."

"Do you name them?" asked Rand, poising a columbine upon the back of his
hand.