roof, painters perilously poised on tall ladders and a half dozen men
busy spraying the renovated orchards.

"I see," she returned with a smile, "--now that you've so kindly
pointed it out to me."

He leveled a keen glance at her. It was impossible not to see her
this morning in the light of what he thought he had discovered the
night before.

"I've done nothing but make plans all my life," she went on gravely.
"Ever since I can remember I've been thinking--thinking and planning
what I should do when I grew up. It seemed such a long, long
time--being just a little girl, I mean, and not able to do what I
wished. But I kept on thinking and planning, and all the while I
_was_ growing up; and then at last--it all happened as I wished."

She appeared to wait for his question. But he remained silent,
staring at the blue rim of distant hills.

"You don't ask me--you don't seem to care what I was planning," she
said, her voice timid and uncertain.

He glanced quickly at her. Something in her look stirred him
curiously. It did not occur to him that her appeal and his instant
response to it were as old as the race.

"I wish you would tell me," he urged. "Tell me everything!"

She drew a deep breath, her eyes misty with dreams.