the light behind her,
hands holding to the door frame on either side.

Mark cried delightedly: "Priss Holt!" And he was at her side in an
instant, and caught her without ceremony, and kissed her roundly, as he
had been accustomed to do when he came home from the sea. But he must
have been a blind man not to have seen in that first moment that Priss
was no longer child, but woman. And Mark was not blind. He kissed her
till she laughingly fought herself free.

"Mark!" she cried again. "You're not dead. I knew you couldn't be...."

Joel, behind them, at sight of Priscilla in his brother's arms, had
stirred with a quick rush of anger; but he was ashamed of it in the next
moment, and stood still where he was. Mark held Priss by the shoulders,
laughing down at her.

"And how did you know I couldn't be dead?" he demanded. "Miss Wise Lady."

She moved her head confusedly. "Oh--you were always so--so alive, or
something.... You just couldn't be...."

He chuckled, released her, and stood away and surveyed her. "Priss,
Priss," he said contritely, "you're not a little kid any longer. Dresses
down, and hair up...." He wagged his head. "It's a wonder you did not
slap my face." And then he looked from her to Joel, and abruptly he
tossed his great head back and laughed aloud. "By the Lord," he roared.
"The children are married. Married...."

Priscilla flushed furiously, and stamped her foot at him. "Of course
we're married," she cried. "Did you think I'd come clear around the world
with...." Her words were smothered in her own hot blushes, and Mark
laughed again, until she cried: "Stop it. I won't have you laughing at
us. Joel--make him stop!"

Mark sobered instantly, and he backed away from Joel in mock panic, both
hands raised, defensively, so that they laughed at him. When they
laughed, he cast aside his panic, and sat down on the cushions,
stretching his legs luxuriously before him. "Now," he exclaimed. "Tell me
all about it. When, and why, and how?"

Priss dropped on the bench beside him, feet tucked under her in the
miraculous fashion of small women; and she enumerated her answers on the
pink tips of her fingers. "When?" she repeated. "The day before we
sailed. Why? Just because. How? In the same old way." She waved her hand,
as though disposing of the matter once and for all, and looked up at him,
and laughed. Joel thought she had not seemed so completely happy since
the day the cabin was finished. "So," she said, "th