"I think so. I heard Jane give the man some orders about the glass in
the windows and he spoke to her concerning the bee skeps and the dahlia
bulbs being all right for winter. In half an hour there was a nice
little tea ready for us, and just imagine, mother, how it felt for me to
be sitting there drinking tea with Jane!"

"Was it a nice tea, John?"

"Mother, what can I tell you? I wasn't myself at all. I only know that
Dinah came in and out with hot cakes and that Jane put honey on them and
gave them to me with smiles and kind words. It was all wonderful! If I
had been dreaming, I might have felt just as much out of the body."

"Jane can be very charming, I know that, John."

"She was something better than charming, mother; she was kind and just
a little quiet. If she had been laughing and noisy and in one of her
merry moods, it would not have been half so enchanting. It was her sweet
sedateness that gave sureness and reality to the whole affair.

"We left Harlow House just as the hunting-moon was rising. Its full
yellow splendor was over everything, and Jane looked almost spiritual in
its transfiguring light. Mother, I do not remember what I said, as I
walked with her hand-in-hand through the park. Ask your own heart,
mother. I have no doubt father said the same words to you. There can
only be one language for an emotion so powerful. Wise or foolish, Jane
understood what I said, and in words equally sweet and foolish she gave
me her promise. Oh, mother, it was not altogether the words! It was the
little tremors and coy unfoldings and sweet agitations of love revealing