always firm and sure; more than that, he himself had played this
same bit no longer ago than last night, and he remembered now that
Cherry had asked him just what it was.

He experienced a sudden and pleasing emotion; he did not stop to
analyze it. But he had been ruffled in spirit a moment before;
Alix had known he was to come on this train, and had not met him
with the car, and while he really did not mind the walk up, he
disliked the feeling that they had entirely forgotten him.

The car was gone from its usual stand under a live oak, but
everybody had not forgotten him nevertheless. Cherry was
deliberately recalling the mood and moment that also recalled him.
And as the notes came slowly, but precisely, from the cool,
darkened living room, with its fragrant masses of sweet peas and
fluted Martha Washington geraniums, Peter felt contented and
serene. He looked up at the rise of Tamalpais, only half a tone
darker than the pale blue sky to-day; he looked off at the range
toward the ocean, where shimmers of heat were quivering upward;
and then he settled himself back luxuriously in his great wicker
chair and shut his eyes. Still the plaintive air came, as
caressing as a touch.

Presently there was silence; then Cherry tried another little
study, and finished it, and the hot summer stillness reigned
again. The valley swam under a haze of pure heat; a buzzard hung
motionless over the cabin, and the dry air was sweet with resinous
scent of pines and manzanita and even of tarweed.

With a sense that he had been dozing, if only for a few minutes,