here listening to the rattle of dishes in the
kitchen, until a splash announced the dishpan emptied under the oak
trees, and the Chinese through with his work for the night. After a
while she went to the doorway, and stared out at the starry sky and the
dark on darkness that marked masses of trees and long spurs of the
mountain. The air was sweet and chilly, frogs were peeping, from
somewhere near came the steady rush of a swollen creek.

While Julia stood on the porch a livery hack from the village creaked
up, and stopped ten feet away. The horses were blowing on the steep
grade, and a strong odour from the animals and their sweated harness
smote the pure night air. The carriage lanterns sent a wavering
brightness across the muddy road, the grass looked artificial in the
yellow light. Miss Toland, vociferating apology and explanation, emerged
from the carriage.

When Richard came back from his fruitless errand he found both women
enjoying the fire, Miss Toland's skirt folded over her knees, her veil
pushed up on her forehead. In his enormous relief, Richie felt that he
could have danced and sung. He busied himself brewing a hot drink for
the older woman.

"Richie," said Julia, with a pleasant childish note of triumphant
reproach in her voice, "was worried to _death_ because I was here alone
with Anna! Don't you think he's crazy, Aunt Sanna?"

"Why, you two have been here alone?" Miss Toland asked, stirring her
chocolate.

"No, we haven't!" Julia answered cheerfully. "I never thought of it
before; but this dear old maid either has you here, or Janey, or Doctor
Brice's Mary from the village--isn't he queer?"

"It isn't as if you weren't practically brother and sister, Richie,"
Miss Toland said moderately. "Not too much butter, dear!" she
interpolated, in reference to the toast her nephew was making, adding a
moment later, "Still, I don't know--a pretty woman in your position
can't be too careful, Julia!"

"Oh, Lord, you're an appreciative pair!" Richard said disgustedly, going
out to the kitchen for more bread.

Presently Miss Toland complained of fatigue, and left them to the fire.
And sitting there, almost silent, Julia thought that she had never found
her host so charming before. His rambling discourse amused her, touched
her; she loved his occasional shy introduction of a line of poetry, his
eager snatching of a book now and then to illuminate some point with
half a page of prose.

"Pleasant, isn't this,