The story soon spread over the ship.  Passengers and crew packed the music-room to witness the ceremony, and joyously drank the health of the lovers at the supper the Captain hastily ordered.  Without hindrance, but half delirious with joy, they headed for Shanghai.

Billy found that he could transact a little business in China for the firm at home and with Western enterprise decided to make his honeymoon pay for itself.

And now that my task is finished I shall follow them as fast as the next steamer can carry me.

PEKING, APRIL, 1912.

Back once again, Mate, in the City of Golden Dusts.  Glorious spring sunshine, and the whole world wrapped in a tender haze.  Everything has little rainbows around it and the very air is studded with jewels.

Soldiers are still marching; flags are flying; drums are thumping and it is all to the tune of Victory for the Revolutionists.  But best of all Jack is well!  To me Peking is like that first morning of Eve’s in the Garden of Eden.

What crowded, happy weeks these last have been.  Waiting for Jack; amusing him when time hangs heavy—­even unto reading pages of scientific books with words so big the spine of my tongue is threatened with fracture.

And in between times?  Well, I am thanking my stars for the chance to doubly make up for any little tenderness I may have passed by.  Put it in your daily thought book, honey, forevermore I am going to remember that if at the time we’d use the strength in doing, that we consume afterwards being sorry we didn’t do, life would run on an easy trolley.

Billy and Sada are with us, still with the first glow of the enchanted garden over them.  Bless their happy hearts!  I am going to give them my collection of color prints to start housekeeping with.  How I’d love to see Uncle—­through a telescope.

To-night we are having our last dinner here.  To-morrow the four of us turn our faces toward the most beautiful spot this side of Heaven, home.  The happy runaways to Nebraska, Jack and I to the little roost we left behind in Kentucky.

There goes the music for dinner.  It ’s something about “dreamy love.”  Love is n’t a dream, Mate—­not the kind I know; it’s all of life and beyond.

I know what they are playing!

  Breathe but one breath
  Rose beauty above
  And all that was death
  Grows life, grows love,
  Grows love!

THE END