all knelt about the calf, who after a few feeble struggles to
escape altogether resigned himself, and lay looking at them with
terrified eyes.

"He's too weak to stand on his legs, perhaps I should have had the
mother brought in," Alix said, anxiously. "But he's a beautiful
little thing, the prettiest she's ever had, except that he's so
thin! Isn't he cute, Cherry?"

"He's--darling!" Cherry's voice, with its young cadences always
ready to escape from the riper tones of womanhood, echoed oddly
under the low, shingled roof of the barn. And again life seemed
full of surprise and thrill to Peter. He wanted to say something
to her; could think of nothing, and so was unusually silent
throughout the ceremonies of getting the calf to suck Alix's
fingers, getting him tied in a manner that should hold him without
danger of strangulation, and bedding him comfortably on sacks and
straw. Cherry was silent, too, but Alix talked briskly, and the
necessity for constant effort and movement filled all possible
gaps.

The evening was warm, one of the two or three warm evenings that
marked the height of summer even in the high valley. While the
three sat on the wide, unroofed porch, loitering over their
coffee, a great, yellow-red moon rose slowly over the hill, and
floated silently above them. Presently its light flooded the
landscape, and strange and romantic vistas appeared between the
redwoods aisles, and the tops of the forest trees far below them
showed in a brilliant gray light, soft and furry. The whole world
seemed to be lifted and swimming in vaporous brightness. There was