was filled
with mystery and an undercurrent of excitement that day. After David
had delivered the auspicious note, a private conference behind closed
doors had been held between M'ri and Barnabas in the "company parlor."
David's shrewd young eyes noted the weakening of the lines of finality
about M'ri's mouth when she emerged from the interview. Throughout the
long afternoon she performed the usual tasks in nervous haste, the
color coming and going in her delicately contoured face.

When she appeared at the supper table she was adorned in white,
brightened by touches of blue at belt and collar. David's young eyes
surveyed her appraisingly and approvingly, and later he effected a
thorough effacing of the family. He obtained from Barnabas permission
for Jud to go to town with the Gardner boys. His next diplomatic move
was to persuade Pennyroyal to go with himself and Janey to Uncle
Larimy's hermit home. When she wavered, he commented on the eclipse of
Uncle Larimy's windows the last time he saw them. That turned the tide
of Pennyroyal's resistance. Equipped with soft linen, a cake of strong
soap, and a bottle of ammonia, she strode down the lane, accompanied
by the children.

The walk proved a trying ordeal for Pennyroyal. She started out at her
accustomed brisk gait, but David loitered and sauntered, Janey of
course setting her pace by his. Pennyroyal, feeling it incumbent upon
herself to keep watch of her young companions, retraced her steps so
often that she covered the distance several times.

At Uncle Larimy's she found such a fertile field for her line of work
that David was quite ready to return when she pronounced her labors
finished. She was really tired, and quite willing to walk home slowly
in the moonlight.

It was very quiet. Here and there a bird, startled from its hiding
place, sought refuge in the higher branches. A pensive quail piped an
answer to the trilling call from the meadows. A tree toad uttered his
lonely, guttural exclamation. The air, freshening with a coming covey
of clouds, swayed the tops of the trees with mournful sound.

David, full of dreams, let his fancy have full play, and he made a
little story of his own about the meeting of the lovers. He pictured
the Judge riding down the dust-white road as the sunset shadows grew
long. He knew the exact spot--the last bit of woodland--from where
Martin, across level-lying fields, could obtain his first glimpse of
the old farmhouse and porch.