been built up, each side of the steps! And is that the Kelley's--
and the O'Shaughnessys'--but look at the size of the trees!"

They came to the woods, by the skeleton of the old Spanish mill,
and she fell silent, and the blue eyes that penetrated the layers
upon layers of soft greenness over her head brimmed with happy
tears. The sweet breath of the forest fell like a cool hand upon
her tired forehead; her heart began to dance in the old,
irresponsible way.

Presently, straight ahead, and rising sharply over them, was the
sun-bathed mountain, clear to-day, even soft and kindly in the
flood of early summer sunshine. It was cool in the woods, even
though warm light was pushing its way through the redwoods here
and there, but when they emerged from the trees, and took the
winding dirt road that rose to the hilltop, suddenly the day
seemed hot. Alix, driving, threw off her coat, and Cherry felt the
moisture prick her forehead.

She gave an exclamation of delight when they reached the cabin. It
was a picture of peaceful beauty in the summer noon. There were
still buttercups and poppies in the fields, and in the garden
thousands of roses were growing riotously, flinging their long
arms up against the slope of the low brown roof, and hanging in
festoons from the low branches of the oaks. Beyond the house the
mountain rose; from the porch Cherry could look down upon the
familiar valley, and the rivers winding like strips of blue ribbon
through the marshes, and the far bay, and San Francisco beyond.

Inside were shady rooms, bowls of flowers, plain little white