a beggar at all, he's a Prince. Because the
Queen is his mother."

My mother looked at him approvingly. The grace of his manner, and the
unaffected feeling of his words, pleased her. But she said no more of
what was in her heart for him. She fell back, as women do, upon the
safe subject of housekeeping matters.

"I suppose," she mused, "that those children will remain with us
to-day? Yes, of course. Armand, we shall have the last of your
great-grandfather's wine. And I am going to send over for the judge.
Let me see: shall I have time for a cake with frosting? H'm! Yes, I
think so. Or would you prefer wine jelly with whipped cream, John?"

He considered gravely, one hand on his hip, the other stroking his
beard.

"Couldn't we have both!" he wondered hopefully. "Please! Just for this
once?"

"We could! We shall!" said my mother, grandly, recklessly,
extravagantly. "Adieu, then, children of my heart! I go to confer with
Clelie." She waved her hand and was gone.

The place shimmered with sun. Old Kerry lay with his head between his
paws and dozed and dreamed in it, every now and then opening his hazel
eyes to make sure that all was well with his man. All outdoors was one
glory of renewing life, of stir and growth, of loving and singing and
nest-building, and the budding of new green leaves and the blossoming
of April boughs. Just such April hopes were theirs who had found each
other again this morning. All of life at its best and fairest
stretched sunnily before those two, the fairer for the cloud that had
for a time darkened it, the dearer and diviner for the loss that had
been so imminent.

... That was a redbird again. And now a vireo. And this the
mockingbird, love-drunk, emptying his heart of a troubadour in a song
of fire and dew. And on a vagrant air, a gipsy air, the scent of the
honey-locust. The spring for all the world else. But for him I
loved,--what?

I suppose my wistful eyes betrayed me, for used to the changing
expressions of my thin visage, he smiled; and stood up, stretching
his arms above his head. He drew in great mouthfuls of the sweet air,
and expanded his broad chest.

"I feel full to the brim!" said he gloriously. "I've got almost too
much to hold with both hands! Parson, parson, it isn't possible you're
fretting over _me_? Sorry for _me_? Why, man, consider!"

Ah, but had I not considered? I knew, I thought, what he had to hold
fast to. Honor, yes. And the friendship of some and the