to you!"

Her heart gave a bound as she recognised, not the bantering, but a very
serious, Brent had spoken. Yet she managed, even if a trifle late, to
answer frankly:

"You already do so many useless things;--I wouldn't, Brent!"

"I call that a diplomatic master-stroke," he smiled. "But it's
insufficient."

"Then appropriate," she added.

"I accept your judgment," he slowly replied, "because your judgment is
fair. Insufficient is the very word, and appropriate to everything I've
ever done, or have a right to expect from you. I was thinking it out
this afternoon before we started. So you've rebuked me, Lady Wonderful,
better than you know."

She was not quite following this--rather was she hoping he would stop.
The afternoon was too enticing--too charged with a dangerous spell. She
saw warning signals being waved at her from all directions. The deep,
sincere tone of his voice was one; two little ground squirrels watching
them from a mossy ledge of rock--two white butterflies fanning a
lace-weed bloom--two majestic birds, with moveless, outstretched wings,
weaving graceful aerial figures far up in the sky--made only a part of
the afternoon which spoke to her. Everything which rested in the charm
of this day, waved to her sweet warnings!

"Do you know what the country is saying?" she asked quickly.

"What the country is saying?" he repeated after her.

"Yes, this country, all about us, everywhere! It's telling me something,
and I just wondered if you could be getting the message, too."

He pretended to be listening.

"I can hear a brown thrasher warbling to me how much we love you! Is
that what you mean?"

"I wish you would be serious," she said--being, in fact, very far from
the wish. "The day is so lovely, so abundant with a nameless something
which comes to so few days, that it's asking if you won't try not to
spoil it with silly misrelations. Can't you hear it, now?"

"There's no doubt about my hearing it now," he gloomily admitted. "I
suppose we should have brought Dale, after all!"

"Don't spoil it in another way," she laughed. "You're such a--I was
about to say kid, but that's slangy, and I detest it. You're
slangy--awfully, Brent--aren't you!"

In spite of himself his face relaxed into a grin. There was no resisting
Jane's appeals, and if she wanted now to be quiet, or talk about
anything under the sun, at this admirable day's request, he was, for the
time being, willing. He told her this, and i