cardinal."

"Golly! I wish I knew about nature."

"So do I! I don't really know a thing--"

"Huh! I bet you do!"

"--though I ought to, living in a small town so long. I'd planned to buy
me a bird-book," she rambled on, giddy with sunshine, "and a flower-book
and bring them along, but I was so busy getting away from the office
that I came off without them. Don't you just love to know about birds
and things?"

"Yuh, I cer'nly do; I cer'nly do. Say, this beats New York, eh? I don't
care if I never see another show or a cocktail. Cer'nly do beat New
York. Cer'nly does! I was saying to Sam Cannon, 'Lord,' I says, 'I
wonder what a fellow ever stays in the city for; never catch me there
if I could rake in the coin out in the country, no, _sir_!' And he
laughed and said he guessed it was the same way with him. No, sir; my
idea of perfect happiness is to be hiking along here with you, Miss
Golden."

He gazed down upon her with a mixture of amorousness and awe. The leaves
of scrub-oaks along the road crinkled and shone in the sun. She was
lulled to slumberous content. She lazily beamed her pleasure back at
him, though a tiny hope that he would be circumspect, not be too ardent,
stirred in her. He was touching in his desire to express his interest
without ruffling her. He began to talk about Miss Vincent's affair with
Mr. Starr, the wealthy old boarder at the farm. In that topic they
passed safely through the torrid wilderness of summer shine and tangled
blooms.

The thwarted boyish soul that persisted in Mr. Schwirtz's barbered,
unexercised, coffee-soaked, tobacco-filled, whisky-rotted, fattily
degenerated city body shone through his red-veined eyes. He was having a
_fete champetre_. He gathered berries and sang all that he remembered of
"Nut Brown Ale," and chased a cow and pantingly stopped under a tree and
smoked a cigar as though he enjoyed it. In his simple pleasure Una was
glad. She admired him when he showed his trained, professional side and
explained (with rather confusing details) why the AEtna Automobile
Varnish Company was a success. But she fluttered up to her feet, became
the wilful debutante again, and commanded, "Come _on_, Mr. Slow! We'll
never reach the Glade." He promptly struggled up to his feet. There was
lordly devotion in the way he threw away his half-smoked cigar. It
indicated perfect chivalry.... Even though he did light another in about
three minutes.

The Glade was filled with a pale-green