ted, manifesting unusual
comprehension and activity as he stepped out of the carriage. "I'll run
in and beard the jolly old lion in his den."

Thatcher shrugged his shoulders good-naturedly, Marian clapped her hands
with delight, and Edith Stevens smiled indulgently as they settled back
to await the result of the embassy.

This midwinter pilgrimage to Bermuda was the result of a sudden impulse
made while the Stevenses were their box-guests at the opera in New York
two weeks before. They had exhausted the superlatives forced from their
lips by the dramatic transformation from December to June--from ice and
snow to roses and oleanders; they had followed the beaten track,
touching elbows with the happy bride and the inquisitive traveler,
seeing the sights in true tourist fashion; they had passed through the
stage of quiet contentment, satisfied to sit on the broad sun-piazza of
the "Princess" in passive lassitude, watching others experience what
they had seen, learning the regulation forms of recreation indulged in
by those who settled down more permanently. From the same point of
vantage they had watched the great sails of the pleasure-boats pass so
close beside them that they could have tossed pennies upon their decks;
they saw the gorgeous sunsets behind Gibbs' Hill, with the ravishing
changes of color and light and shade thrown upon the myriad of tiny
islands scattered picturesquely throughout the bay.

Then the period of inaction turned into a desire to learn more deeply of
the beauties which the tourist never sees, and they poked through the
narrow "tribal" lanes and unfrequented roads on foot, on bicycles, or
_en voiture_, searching for the unexpected, and finding rich rewards at
the end of every quest. It was one of these expeditions which led them
to the highest rise of Spanish Point, where they stopped their carriage
before the entrance to a private estate, within the walls of which they
saw evidences of what the hand of man can do in supplementing Nature's
work.

Presently Stevens could be seen coming toward them, waving his hat as a
signal for their advance. The driver turned in through the gateway.

"He's a mighty decent sort," Stevens announced as he met the approaching
vehicle. "Can't make out whether he's English or American, but he
offered no objections whatever."

"There!" Marian cried triumphantly; "of course he feels complimented! If
his grounds were merely the commonplace no one would want to dis