down the hill singing, "There'll be something in heaven for
children to do," at the top of her healthy young lungs.



IX

CEPHAS SPEAKS

THE waving signal, a little later on, showed that Rodman could go
to the picnic, the fact being that he was having a holiday from
eleven o'clock until two, and Ivory was going to drive to the
bridge at noon, anyway, so his permission could then be asked.

Patty's mind might have been thought entirely on her ugly task as
she swept and dusted and scrubbed that morning, but the reverse
was true. Mark Wilson had gone away without saying good-bye to
her. This was not surprising, perhaps, as she was about as much
sequestered in her hilltop prison as a Turkish beauty in a harem;
neither was it astonishing that Mark did not write to her. He
never had written to her, and as her father always brought home
the very infrequent letters that came to the family, Mark knew
that any sentimental correspondence would be fraught with danger.
No, everything was probably just as it should be, and yet,--well,
Patty had expected during the last three weeks that something
would happen to break up the monotony of her former existence.
She hardly knew what it would be, but the kiss dropped so lightly
on her cheek by Mark Wilson still burned in remembrance, and made
her sure that it would have a sequel, or an explanation.