"I am glad that I do not live in the Mississippi Valley," Kate went on,
superiorly ignoring the observation, "because the joy of living seems to
be at a very low ebb out here."

"Honestly now, do you get that?" he demanded of his friend.

"Ann and I had planned a beautiful surprise for you, Wayne."

"Thanks," said Wayne drily.

"To-night Ann was tired. She did not wish to come down to dinner. Of
course, I might have told you: 'Ann is here.' To the orderly,
West-Pointed mind, the well oiled, gun-constructing mind, I presume that
would present itself as the thing to do. But Ann and I have a sense of
the joy of living, a delight in the festive, in the--the bubbling wine of
youth, you know. So we said, 'How beautiful to surprise dear Wayne.' In
the morning Ann, refreshed by the long night's sleep, was to go out and
gather roses. Wayne--"

"The roses don't bloom until next month," brutally interrupted Wayne.

"Of course, you would think of that! As we had planned it, Wayne, looking
from his window was to see the beautiful girl--she is a beautiful
girl--gathering dew-laden roses in the garden. Perhaps Captain Prescott,
chancing at that very moment to look from his window, would see her too.
It was to be a beautiful, a never-to-be-forgotten moment for you both."

"We humbly apologize," laughed Prescott.

"Hum!" grunted dear Wayne.