t made enchantment in the garden. Merlin himself
could have done no more. The house, half hidden in the shadow, stood
waiting, as it had done for two centuries, while those who belonged
under its roof made holiday outside. Most of them had gone forever, and
only their portraits were left, but, replete with memories both happy
and sad, the house could not be said to be alone.

The tall pine threw its gloom far beyond them, and the moonlight touched
Aunt Peace caressingly. Her silvered hair gleamed with unearthly beauty
and her serene eyes gave sweet significance to her name. All those she
cared for were about her--daughter and friends.

"Nights like this," said the Doctor, dreamily, "make one think of the
old fairy tales. Elves and witches are not impossible, when the moon
shines like this."

Lynn looked across the garden to the rose-bush, where a cobweb,
dew-impearled, had captured a bit of wandering rainbow. "They are far
from impossible," he answered. "I think they were here only the other
night, for in the morning, when I went out to look at my vegetables, I
found something queer among the leaves."

"Something queer, my dear?" asked Aunt Peace, with interest. "What was
it?"

"A leaf of rosemary and a sprig of mignonette, tied round with a blade
of grass and wet with dew."

"How strange," said Margaret. "How could it have happened?"

"Rosemary," said Aunt Peace, "that means remembrance, and the mignonette
means the hope of love. A very pretty message for a fairy to leave among
your vegetables."

"Very pretty," repeated the Doctor, nodding appreciation.

Iris feared they heard the loud beating of her heart. "What do you
think?" asked Lynn, turning to her. "Was it a fairy?"

"Of course," she returned, with assumed indifference. "Who else?"

There was silence then, and in the house the clock struck ten. They
heard it plainly, and the Doctor, with a start of recollection, took out
his huge silver watch.

"I had no idea it was so late," he said. "I must go."

"One moment, Doctor," began Miss Field, putting out a restraining hand.
"Let me offer you some refreshment before you start upon that long walk.
Iris?"

"Yes, Aunt Peace."

"Those little cakes that we had for tea--there may be one or two
left--and is there not a little wine?"

"I'll see."

Lynn followed her, and presently they came back, with the Royal
Worcester plate piled generously with cakes, and a decanter of the port
that was famous throug