And then, to soften the disappointment the more and to keep a new bubble afloat, Jack launched out into a description of the country and how beautiful the view was from the edge of the hill overlooking the valley, with the big oaks crowning the top and the lichen-covered rocks and fallen timber blanketed with green moss, and the spring of water that gushed out of the ground and ran laughing down the hillside, and the sweep of mountains losing themselves in the blue haze of the distance, and then finally to the log-cabin he was going to build for his own especial use.

“And only two miles away,” she cried in a joyous tone,—­“and I can ride out every day!  Oh, Jack!—­just think of it!” And so, with the breath of this new enthusiasm filling their souls, a new bubble of hope and gladness was floated, and again the two fell to planning, and “supposing,” the rose-glow once more lightening up the peaks.

For days nothing else was talked of.  An onslaught was at once made on Carry’s office, two doors below Mrs. Hicks, for photographs, plans of bungalows, shanties, White Mountain lean-tos, and the like, and as quickly tucked under Ruth’s arm and carried off, with only the permission of the office boy,—­Garry himself being absent owing to some matters connected with a big warehouse company in which he was interested, the boy said, and which took him to New York on the early train and did not allow his return sometimes, until after midnight.

These plans were spread out under the lamp on the sitting-room table, the two studying the details, their heads together, MacFarlane sitting beside them reading or listening,—­the light of the lamp falling on his earnest, thoughtful face,—­Jack consulting him now and then as to the advisability of further extensions, the same being two rooms shingled inside and out, with an annex of bark and plank for Ruth’s horse, and a kitchen and laundry and no end of comforts, big and little,—­all to be occupied whenever their lucky day would come and the merry bells ring out the joyful tidings of their marriage.

Nor was this all this particularly radiant bubble contained.  Not only was there to be a big open fireplace built of stone, and overhead rafters of birch, the bark left on and still glistening, —­but there were to be palms, ferns, hanging baskets, chintz curtains, rugs, pots of flowers, Chinese lanterns, hammocks, easy chairs; and for all Jack knew, porcelain tubs, electric bells, steam heat and hot and cold water, so enthusiastic had Ruth become over the possibilities lurking in the 15 X 20 log-hut which Jack proposed to throw together as a shelter in his exile.

CHAPTER XXV