“I’ll find you some,” and Sally disappeared—­by way of the kitchen, where Mary Ann was sure to need coaching from time to time.  Thence she ran up a back stairway to the floor above, and on to the small flight of steps which led to the door opening on the stairway between the walls, above which was the old library.  She meant to make a selection of volumes for Josephine’s delectation, more as a joke than as an offer of reading matter, for she did not suppose there was much in the collection which might serve to entertain her friend.  To her surprise, she found it unnecessary to use her key, and went on up the stairs, remembering that she had not seen Jarvis for the last hour.  If he should be up here reading, it was well that she had come, for the fine print of the old books was the worst thing possible for his eyes.

But Jarvis was not reading.  Instead, she found him standing by one of the windows, staring out through the curious old wrought-iron latticework, which, after the fashion in many old houses, made the upper windows impregnable.  His hands were in his pockets, his eyes were fixed on the outlook of field and meadow stretching away up the slope of the hillside to the woods beyond.  It was a fine prospect, even through the falling rain, and Jarvis appeared to be fascinated by it, so that he did not hear the light fall of Sally’s footsteps on the stairs.

She came softly up and stood beside him.  “Isn’t that lovely off there?” she asked, and Jarvis started.  Then he laughed, bringing his gaze back to rest with a look of pleasure upon the girl at his side.

“It certainly is.  From this height one gets a better idea of the way the farm lies than from below.”

“Do you wonder I want to live here?”

“Not a bit.  The idea of it grows more attractive to me every time I come here.  If it were any place but yours, I should be strongly tempted to buy it myself—­mother and I, of course, I mean.  She would jump at the idea, I fancy, of this for a summer home.”

“Oh, Jarvis!” Sally looked so dismayed that he reassured her in haste: 

“Of course I’d never mention such a thing unless you yourself wanted to sell.  But you can see I’m in sympathy with your longing to live here.  I only wish I could see you carry out your plan.  If there were anything I could do to bring it about, I certainly would do it.  Look here.”  He paused to consider an idea which had just occurred to him.  “Do you suppose if I were seriously to talk of buying the place it might make Max want to keep it?  By all the laws of human nature, the thing ought to work that way.”

“I don’t know.  You never know how Max is going to take things.  If you offered a good price he might jump at it.”

“I wouldn’t offer a good price—­that is, not the price I would give if I were very anxious to get it.”

Sally thought it over.  “I don’t know,” she said again.  “You told me you were thinking of offering to rent a few acres of us and try some market gardening.”