dark-haired and of Huguenot strain, her own dear father.

From each of these something had been given her, some fault, some
virtue. If any of them had been brave, there must have been handed
down to her some bit of bravery--if any of them had been cowards--

But none of them had been cowards.

"_We came to a new country," said the great-grandparents. "There were
hardships, but we loved and lived through them--_"

"_The Civil war tore our hearts," said the grand-parents. "Brother
hated brother, and friend hated friend, but we loved and lived through
it--_"

"_We were not tested," said her own parents. "You are our child and
test has come to you. If you are brave, it will be because we have
given to you that which came first to us--_"

Jean sat up, wide-awake--"_I am not brave_," she said.

She stood, after that, at a lower window, watching. Far down the road
a big black motor flew straight as a crow towards the hill on which the
Doctor's house stood. It stopped at the gate. A man stepped out.
Jean gave a gasp, then flew to meet him.

"Oh, Derry, Derry--"

He came in and shut the door behind him, took her in his arms, kissed
her, and kissed her again. "I love you," he said, "I love you. I
couldn't stay away--"

It seemed to Jean quite the most wonderful thing of all the wonderful
things that had happened, that he should be here in this old house
where her parents had come for their honeymoon--where her own honeymoon
was so soon to be--.

She saved that news for him, however. He had to tell her first of how
he had taken the wrong road after he had left Baltimore. He had gone
without his lunch to get to her quickly. No, he wasn't hungry, and he
was glad Mary Connolly was out, "I've so much to say to you."

Then, too, she delayed the telling so that he might see the farm before
darkness fell. She wrapped herself in a hooded red cloak in which he
thought her more than ever adorable.

The sun rested on the rim of the world, a golden disk under a
wind-blown sky. It was very cold, but she was warm in her red cloak,
he in his fur-lined coat and cap.

She told him about her father's honeymoon, hugging her own secret
close. "They came here, Derry, and it was in May. I wish you could
see the place in May, with all the appleblooms.

"It seems queer, doesn't it, Derry, to think of father honeymooning.
He always seems to be making fun of things, and one should be serious
on a honeymoon."

She fla