ho are
tolerant of one's every mood are not common, are they? Mr. Kendrick,
what do you suppose those dots of bright scarlet are, halfway down the
hill? They must be rose haws, mustn't they? Nothing else could have that
colour in November."

"I don't know what 'rose haws' are. Do you want them--whatever they are?
I'll go and get them for you."

"I'll go, too, to see if they're worth picking. They're thorny things;
you won't like them, but I do."

"You think I don't like thorny things?" he asked her as they went down
the hillside, up which Ted and Ruth were now struggling. It was steep
and he held out his hand to her, but she ignored it and went on with
sure, light feet.

"No, I think you like them soft and rounded."

"And you prefer them prickly?"

"Prickly enough to be interesting."

They reached the scraggly rosebush, bare except for the bright red haws,
their smooth hard surfaces shining in the sun. Richard got out his
knife, and by dint of scratching his hands in a dozen places, succeeded
in gathering quite a cluster. Then he went to work at getting rid of the
thorns.

"You may like things prickly, but you'll be willing to spare a few of
these," he observed.

He succeeded in time in pruning the cluster into subordination, bound
them with a tough bit of dried weed which he found at his feet, and held
out the bunch. "Will you do me the honour of wearing them?"

She thrust the smooth stems into the breast of her riding-coat, where
they gave the last picturesque touch to her attire. "Thank you," she
acknowledged somewhat tardily. "I can do no less after seeing you
scarify yourself in my service. You might have put on your gloves."

"I might--and suffered your scarifying mirth, which would have been much
worse. 'He jests at scars that never felt a wound,' but he who jests at
them after he has felt them is the hero. Observe that I still jest." He
put his lips to a bleeding tear on his wrist as he spoke. "My only
regret is that the rose haws were not where they are now when I
photographed the horses. Only, mine is not a colour camera. I must get
one and have it with me when I drive, in case of emergencies like this
one."

A whimsical expression touching his lips, he gazed off over the
landscape as he spoke, and she glanced at his profile. She was obliged
to admit to herself that she had seldom noted one of better lines.
Curiously enough, to her observation there did not lack a suggestion of
ruggedness abou