“Oh, there’s no place in the world like it!” Alix agreed, rubbing some dried mud from the back of her hand with the trowel.  “Peter and I are always deciding to try New York, or to try San Francisco, or Southern California, but somehow we don’t!  If Martin continues to migrate every little while, I wish you could have a little house here.  Then for part of the time at least we could be together.”

“The old house,” Cherry said, dreamily.

“Well, why not?” Alix echoed, eagerly.  “It’s in pretty bad shape, after being empty so long, but it would make darling home again!  Would Martin object?”

The old spoiled Cherry, with the pretty petulant frown and shrug of years ago!  “Martin knows what he could do,” she drawled, naughtily.

“Martin would be here—­some of the time?” Alix asked, a little anxiously.

Cherry filled her coffee cup a second time, gave Kow an appreciative smile as he put a hot French loaf before her, and said indifferently: 

“Martin has a constitutional objection to whatever pleases me, and would find some objection to any plan that gave me pleasure!” Her tone was light, but there was a bitter twitch to her lips as she spoke.

“Oh, Cherry!” Alix said, distressed.

“However, I’m not going to talk about Martin!” the younger sister decreed, gaily.  “I’m too utterly and absolutely happy!”

There was a worried little cloud on Alix’s forehead, but it lightened steadily, as the happy morning wore on, and half an hour later, when she and Cherry were sailing a frog on a shingle, on the busy little stream that poured down the hill near the cabin, both were laughing like children again.

It was here that Peter found Cherry.  Alix had met him at the house, given him a scrutinizing look with her quick kiss, questioned him about his trip, and reported all well with the house and garden.

“And now come down to the creek,” she had said, mischievously.  “The Bateses are here—­”

“Not Alice Bates?” he had asked, quickly, and at her apologetic nod he added disgustedly:  “Oh, thunder!”

“Oh, don’t—­she’ll hear you!” said the beaming Alix, warningly.  Peter’s eyes, as he crossed the porch, were gloomy and he said “Thunder!” again under his breath.

They followed a rough little trail past stumps where nasturtiums and alyssum mingled with the underbrush, and were in the redwoods, and at the brookside.  Peter saw a slender girl in pink pushing a plank about with a pole.  She turned in surprise to face him.

“Cherry!” he said, and as Alix laughed delightedly, he gave his wife a glance, and said, “You liar!”

Cherry came up to him, and he took both her hands, and after a second of hesitation kissed her.  She freed one hand to put it on his shoulder, and, standing so, she seriously returned his kiss.  For a moment his arm encircled her waist; he had forgotten how blue her eyes were, with just a film of corn-coloured hair loosened above them, and what husky, exquisite, childish notes were in her voice.