stick to the straight and narrow," broke in Linda,
"there's no scenery."

Eileen laid down her fork and stared in white-lipped amazement at the
two girls, but she was utterly incapable of forgetting herself and her
neatly arranged plans to have the three cultivated and attractive
young men all to herself for the evening. She realized too, from the
satisfaction betrayed in the glances these men were exchanging among
each other, the ease with which they sat, and the gusto with which they
ate the food Katy was deftly serving them, that something was happening
which never had happened at the Strong table since she had presided
as its head, her sole endeavor having been to flatter her guests or to
extract flattery for herself from them.

"That is what makes this valley so adorable," said Marian when at last
she could make herself heard. "It is neither straight nor narrow. The
wing of a white sea swallow never swept a lovelier curve on the breast
of the ocean than the line of this valley. My mother was the dearest
little woman, and she used to say that this valley was outlined by a
gracious gesture from the hand of God in the dawn of Creation."

Peter Morrison deliberately turned in his chair, his eyes intent on
Marian's earnest face.

"You almost make me want to say, in the language of an old hymn I used
to hear my mother sing, 'Here will I set up my rest.' With such a name
as Lilac Valley and with such a thought in the heart concerning it, I
scarcely feel that there is any use in looking further. How about it,
Henry? Doesn't it sound conclusive to you?"

"It certainly does," answered Henry Anderson, "and from what I could see
as we drove in, it looks as well as it sounds."

Peter Morrison turned to his friend.

"Gilman," he said, "you're a lawyer; you should know the things I'd like
to. Are there desirable homesites still to be found in the valley,
and does the inflation of land at the present minute put it out of my
reach?"

"Well, that is on a par with the average question asked a lawyer,"
answered Gilman, "but part of it I can answer definitely and at once.
I think every acre of land suitable for garden or field cultivation is
taken. I doubt if there is much of the orchard land higher up remaining
and what there is would command a rather stiff price; but if you would
be content with some small plateau at the base of a mountain where you
could set any sort of a house and have--say two or three acres, mostly
of s