never thought to put
it in words before. I must live where things are growing. Where, every
time I look out of the window, I can see orchards and shrubs and
hothouses. Oh, it's all so beautiful! And, James, our orchids this
season--but I forgot. You don't care for orchids."

"They're pretty enough, I suppose," vouchsafed Hartmann. "But the big
men in the business are doing wonderful things with potatoes these days.
And look at what Father Burbank's done in creating an edible cactus!
Sometimes it makes me feel bitter when I think what I might have done
with vegetables if I hadn't squandered so much God-given time studying
Greek."

"But----"

"Oh, yes. It made a hit with father to have me study a lot of things
that would only help a college professor. He's worked in the dirt, in
overalls, all his life. And like most people who never had one, he sets
a crazy value on so-called 'education.' But all this can't interest
you," he finished ruefully.

"It _does_ interest me. You know it does. But there's something I'd like
to say to you if you won't be angry."

"At _you_? Why----"

"It's this: I want you so much to get on. Why won't you try harder
to--to please Uncle Peter?"

"I do try. I'm square with him. That's the trouble. That's why I don't
make more of a hit. He asks me my 'honest opinion' about something or
other. I give it. Then he blows up."

"But if you'd try to be more tactful----"

"You said that once before to me, Miss Katie. I asked you what 'tactful'
meant. And when you told me----"

"When I told you, you said it was 'just a fancy name for being
hypocritical.' But it isn't, a bit. Can't you try not to be quite
so--so----?"

"Cranky?"

"No, blunt. It will smooth things over so much with Uncle Peter. He's
really the gentlest, dearest----"

"I've noticed it," said Hartmann drily. "But I'll try if you want me to.
I promise."

"Thank you," she answered.

And, perhaps to seal the pledge, their hands met. The sealing of a
pledge is not a matter to slur over with careless haste, but requires
due time. And it was but natural that the handclasp should be symbolic
of that deliberation. Indeed, it is hard to say just how long his big
hand and her little one might have remained clasped together had
inclination been allowed to prevail. But, as usual in Hartmann's life,
inclination was not consulted. The door behind them opened sharply, and
the clasped hands parted as if at a signal. Hartmann slipped back i