d the meaning of this he said nothing. Probably
he would have said nothing even if he had understood.

"I'll show you the nature of the big sadness and that the devil is a joy
devil when we harvest our first crop of alfalfa," Jack concluded. "Then I
shall make a holiday! Then I shall be a real rancher and something is
going to happen!"

"The trail!" exclaimed Firio, and the soft light in his eyes flashed.
"_Si_! The trail and the big spurs and the revolver in the holster!"

"No!"

But Firio said "_Si_"! with the supreme confidence of one who holds that
belief in fulfilment will make any wish come true.

XVI

A CHANGE OF MIND

It was Sunday afternoon; or, to date it by an epochal event, the day
after Jack's alfalfa crop had fallen before the mower. Mary was seated on
the bench under the avenue of umbrella-trees reading a thin edition of
Marcus Aurelius bound in flexible leather. Of late she had developed a
fondness for the more austere philosophers. Jack, whose mood was entirely
to the sonneteers, came softly singing down the avenue of palms and
presented himself before her in a romping spirit of interruption.

"O expert in floriculture!" he said, "the humble pupil acting as a
Committee of One has failed utterly to agree with himself as to the form
of his new flowerbed. There must be a Committee of Two. Will you come?"

"Good! I am weary of Marcus. I can't help thinking that he too far
antedates the Bordeaux mixture!" she answered, springing to her feet with
positive enthusiasm.

He rarely met positive enthusiasm in her and everything in him called for
it at the moment. He found it so inspiring that the problem of the bed
was settled easily by his consent to all her suggestions--a too-ready
consent, she told herself.

"After all, it is your flower garden," she reminded him.

"No, every flower garden in Little Rivers is yours!" he declared.

The way he said this made her frown. She saw him taking a step on the
other side of that barrier over which she mounted guard.

"Never make your hyperboles felonious!" she warned him. "Besides, if
you are going to be a real Little Riversite you should have opinions of
your own."

"I haven't any to-day--none except victory!" and he held out his palms,
exhibiting their yellowish plates. "Look! Even corns on the joints!"

"Yes, they look quite real," she admitted, censoriously.

"Haven't I made good? Do you remember how you stood here on the very site
of my h