as the sharpest ears," I said.
"Ears!" said Lorraine. "It isn't ears. I smell orris. She's coming. Mr.
Dane, will you take Peggy out of that window into the garden? Don't yip,
either of you, while you're within gunshot, and don't appear till I tell
you."

"Lorraine!" came a voice, softly, from the front walk. It was Aunt
Elizabeth. She has a way of calling to announce herself in a sweet,
cooing tone. I said to Charles Edward once it was like a dove, and he
said: "No, my child, not doves, but woodcock." Alice giggled and called
out, quite loudly, '"Springes to catch woodcock!'" And he shook his head
at her and said, "You all-knowing imp! isn't even Shakespeare hidden
from you?" But now the voice didn't sound sweet to me at all, because
I wanted to get away. We rose at the same minute, Mr. Dane and I, and
Lorraine seemed to waft us from the house on a kind little wind. At
the foot of the steps we stopped for fear the gravel should crunch, and
while we waited for Aunt Elizabeth to go in the other way I looked at
Mr. Dane to see if he wanted to laugh as much as I. He did. His eyes
were full of fun and pleasure, and he gave me a little nod, as if we
were two children going to play a game we knew all about. Then I heard
Aunt Elizabeth's voice inside. It was low and broken--what Charles
Edward called once her "come-and-comfort-me" voice.

"Dears," said she, "you are going abroad?"

"Yes," Charles Edward answered. "Yes, it looks that way now."

"Yes," said Lorraine, rather sharply, I thought, as if she meant to show
him he ought to be more decisive, "we are."

"Dears," Aunt Elizabeth went on, "will you take me with you?"

Mr. Dane started as if he meant to go back into the house. I must have
started, too, and my heart beat hard. There was a silence of a minute,
two minutes, three perhaps. Then I heard Charles Edward speak, in a
voice I didn't know he had.

"No, Aunt Elizabeth, no. Not so you'd notice it."

Mr. Dane gave a nod as if he were relieved, and we both began tiptoeing
down the path in the dark. But it wasn't dark any more. The moon was
coming through the locust-trees, and I smelled the lindens by the wall.
"Oh," I said, "it's summer, isn't it? I don't believe I've thought of
summer once this year."

"Yes," said he, "and there never was a summer such as this is going to
be."

I knew he was very athletic, but I don't believe I'd thought how much
he cared for out-of-doors. "Come down here," I said. "This is Lo