“I looked at Bart, he nodded back approvingly, so I slipped out, first to see that the Infant was sleeping properly, head up, and not down under the clothes, as I had once found her, and then to walk to and fro under the budding stars for inspiration, leaving the pair to talk the men’s talk that is so good and nourishing for a married man like Bart, no matter how much he cares for the Infant and me.

“Jumbled up as the garden is, the spring twilight veils all deficiencies and releases persuasive odours from every corner, while the knoll, with its gnarled trees outlined against the sky, appealed to me as never before, a thing desirable and to be restored and preserved even at a cost rather than obliterated.

“’Oh, Mrs. Evan, I wish I could tell you how The Man’s plan touches me and seems made for me especially this spring.  I seem fairly to have a passion for home and the bit of earth about and sky above it that is all our own.  And unlike other times when I loved to have my friends come and visit me, and share and return the hospitality of neighbours, I want to be alone with myself and Bart, to spend long days under the sky and trees and have nothing come between our real selves and God, not even the ticking and dictation of a clock!  There is so much that I want to tell my husband just now, that cannot be put in words, and that he may only read by intuition.  When I was younger and first married, I did not feel this need so much, but now life seems to take on so much deeper a meaning!  Do you understand?  Ah, yes, I know you do!  But I am wandering from the point, just as I yearn to wander from all the stringencies of life this summer.

“Evidently seeing me, the Rural Delivery man whistled from his cart, instead of leaving the evening mail in its wren box, as usual.  I went to the gate rather reluctantly, I was so absorbed in garden dreams, took the letters from the carrier, and, as the men were still sitting in the dark, carried them up to the lamp in my own sitting room, little realizing that even at that moment I was holding the key to the ’really tangible plan’ in my hand.

* * * * *

“The next morning. Two of the letters I received on Saturday night would have been of great importance if we were still planning to go away for a vacation, instead of hoping to stay at home for it.  The first, from mother, told me that she and my brother expect to spend the summer in taking a journey, in which Alaska is to be the turning-point.  She begs us to go with them and offers to give me her right-hand-reliable, Jane McElroy, who cared for me when a baby, to stay here with the Infant.  The second letter was from Maria Maxwell, a distant cousin of Bart’s.  She has also heard of our intended vacation,—­indeed the rapidity with which the news travels and the interest it causes are good proofs of our stay-at-home tendencies and the general sobriety of our six years of matrimony!