The second house beyond this was—­it was the house of Julia!

And what a glamour of summer light lay upon it because it was the house of Julia!  The texture of the sunshine came under a spell here; glowing flakes of amber were afloat; a powder of opals and rubies fell silently adrizzle through the trees.  The very air changed, beating faintly with a fairy music, for breathing it was breathing sorcery:  elfin symphonies went tinkling through it.  The grass in the next yard to Julia’s was just grass, but every blade of grass in her yard was cut of jewels.

Julia’s house was also the house of that person who through some ungovernable horseplay of destiny happened to be her father:  and this gave the enchanted spot a background of lurking cyclone—­no one could tell at what instant there might rise above the roseate pleasance a funnel-shaped cloud.  With young Herbert’s injurious narrative fresh in his mind, Noble quickened his steps; but as he reached the farther fence post, marking the southward limit of Mr. Atwater’s property, he halted short, startled beautifully.  Through the open front door, just passed, a voice had called his name; a voice of such arresting sweetness that his breath stopped, like his feet.

“Oh, Noble!” it called again.

He turned back, and any one who might have seen his face then would have known what was the matter with him, and must have been only the more sure of it because his mouth was open.  The next instant the adequate reason for his disorder came lightly through the open door and down to the gate.

Julia was kind, much too kind!  She had heard that her Aunt Harriet and her Uncle Joe were frequently describing Mr. Atwater’s most recent explosion to other members of the extensive Atwater family league; and though she had not discovered how Aunt Harriet and Uncle Joe had obtained their material, yet, in Julia’s way of wording her thoughts, an account of the episode was “all over town,” and she was almost certain that by this time Noble Dill had heard it.  And so, lest he should suffer, the too-gentle creature seized the first opportunity to cheer him up.  That was the most harmful thing about Julia; when anybody liked her—­even Noble Dill—­she couldn’t bear to have him worried.  She was the sympathetic princess who wouldn’t have her puppy’s tail chopped off all at once, but only a little at a time.

“I just happened to see you going by,” she said, and then, with an astounding perfection of seriousness, she added the question:  “Did you mind my calling to you and stopping you, Noble?”

He leaned, drooping, upon the gatepost, seeming to yearn toward it; his expression was such that this gatepost need not have been surprised if Noble had knelt to it.

“Why, no,” he said hoarsely.  “No, I don’t have to be back at the office any particular time.  No.”

“I just wanted to ask you——­” She hesitated.  “Well, it really doesn’t amount to anything—­it’s nothing so important I couldn’t have spoken to you about it some other time.”