X.

"You observe," said Wade the next morning, "I come through the gate in

the hedge."

The intermittent showers of yesterday afternoon and night had cleaned

the June world, and the four ancient cedars from which the Walton place

had received its name, and in the broken shade of which Eve was reading,

exhaled a spicy odor under the influence of moisture and warmth. Eve, a

slim white figure against the dark-green of the foliage, the sun

flecking her waving hair, looked up, smiled and laid her book down.

"Good morning," she said. "Have you come to help me be lazy?"

"If you need help," he replied. "I brought these. They're not much, but

I think they're the last in the village." He handed her a half-dozen

sprays of purple lilac, small and in some places already touched with

brown.

"Oh," she said, "they're lovely!" She buried her face in them and

crooned over them delightedly. Witnessing her pleasure, Wade had no

regrets for his hour's search over the length and breadth of Eden

Village. She laid them in her lap and looked up curiously. "Where did

you get them? Not from your hedge?"

"Oh, I just stopped at the florist's as I came along," he laughed. "He

apologized for them and wanted me to take orchids, but I told him they

were for the Lilac Girl."

"Is that me?" smiled Eve. "Thank you very much." She made a little bow.

"I feel dreadfully impolite and inhospitable, Mr. Herrick, at not asking

you to sit down, but--you see!" She waved a hand before her. "There's

nothing but the ground, and that's damp, I'm afraid. So let us go

indoors. Besides, I must put these in water."

"Please don't," he begged. "The ground isn't damp where the sun shines,

and I wouldn't mind if it were. If I'm not keeping you from your book

I'll sit down here. May I?"

"You'll catch rheumatism or ague or something else dreadful," she

warned.

"Not I," he laughed. "I've never been sick a day in my life, unless it

was after I'd got mixed up with dynamite that time. Don't you think you

might wear those lilacs?"

"Surely not all of them. One, perhaps." She tucked a spray in at the

bosom of her white waist. "You haven't told me yet where you got them.

Have you been stealing?"

"Some I stole, some I begged, and some I--just took. I think I can

truthfully declare, though, that there is not another bit of lilac at

this moment in the whole village. I went on a foraging expedition after

breakfast and there is the result. I've examined every bush and hedge

with a microscope."

"And all that trouble for me!" she exclaimed. "I'm sure I'm flattered."

A little flush of rose-pink crept into her clear cheeks. "Do you know,

Mr. Herrick, you're a perfectly delightful neighbor? Last night fish,

to-day flowers! And I haven't thanked you for the fish, have I? They

were delicious, and it was good of you to send them. Especially as

Zenas Third said you didn't have very good luck."

"No, we didn't catch many," answered Wade, "but we had a good time. I

was sorry I couldn't send more, though."

"More! Pray how many trout do you think two ladies of delicate appetites

can eat, Mr. Herrick? You sent six, and we didn't begin to eat all of

those."

"Really? They were little chaps, too. I'm glad you liked them. Next time

I hope I'll have some better ones to offer. Zenas and I are going to try

again the first cloudy day."

"I hope you have good luck." There was a moment's silence. Eve raised

the lilacs to her face again and over the tips of the sprays shot a

glance at Wade. He had crossed his legs under him and was feeling for

his pipe. He looked up and their eyes met.

"I'm afraid I can't offer you any tobacco," she said.

"I've got plenty," he laughed, "if you don't mind my smoking."

"Not a bit. Perhaps I should call Carrie. I think she likes the smell

of tobacco better than any perfume she knows."

"Is she well?" asked Wade, contritely. "I should have asked before,

but--you--something put it out of my head."

"Quite well, thanks. She's making something for luncheon and has

forbidden me the kitchen. It's a surprise. Do you like surprises, Mr.

Herrick?"

"Some. It depends on the nature of them."

"I suppose it does. An earthquake, for instance, would be a rather

disagreeable surprise, wouldn't it?"

"Decidedly. I can imagine a surprise that would be distinctly pleasant,

though," said Wade, giving a great deal of attention to the selection of

a match from his silver case. "For instance, if you were to give me a

small piece of that lilac for my buttonhole."

"That would surprise you?" laughed Eve. "Then I'm to understand that you

think me ungenerous?"

"No, indeed, I was--was considering my unworthiness."

"Such humility is charming," answered Eve, breaking off a tiny spray and

tossing it to him. "There; aren't you awfully surprised? Please look

so."

Wade struck an attitude and made a grimace which to a third person would

have indicated wild alarm.

"Oh, dear," laughed Eve, "if that's your idea of looking pleasant I'd

hate to see you in an earthquake!"

Wade placed the spray in his buttonhole. "Thank you," he said, "I shall

have quite a collection--"

"You were going to say?" asked Eve politely as he paused.

"I was going to say"--he paused again. "You know I already have a spray

of this that belongs to you." He shot a quick, curious glance at her.

"You have? And where did you get it?"

Wade lighted his pipe very deliberately.

"You dropped it outside my window the other day."

"Oh!" said Eve, with a careless laugh.

"I'm afraid that must be withered by this time."

"It is," said Wade. There was no reply to this, and he looked up to find

her gazing idly at the pages of her book, which she was ruffling with

her fingers. "I'm keeping you from reading," he said.

"No, I don't want to read. It's not interesting."

"May I see what it is?" She held the cover up for his inspection.

"Have you read it?" she asked. He shook his head slowly.

"I don't read many novels, and those I do read I forget all about the

next minute. Of course I try to keep up with the important ones, the

ones folks always ask you about, like Mrs. Humphrey Ward's and Miss

Wharton's."

"Yes? And do you like them?"

"I suppose so," he replied, dubiously. "I think the last one I read was

'The Fruit of Mirth.' I didn't care very much for that, did you? If I'd

had my way I'd have passed around the morphine to the whole bunch early

in the book."

Eve smiled. "I'm afraid you wouldn't care for this one either," she

said, indicating the book in her lap. "I heard this described as 'forty

chapters of agony and two words of relief.'"

"'The End,' eh? That was clever. You write stories yourself, don't you?"

"Of a sort, stories for little children about fairies, usually. They

don't amount to much."

"I'll bet they're darn--mighty good," said Wade, stoutly.

"I wish they were 'darned good,'" she laughed. "If they were they'd sell

better. I used to write little things for our college paper, and then,

when papa died, and there wasn't very much left after the executors had

got through, writing seemed about the only thing I could do. I took some

stories to the magazine that papa was editor of, and they were splendid

to me. They couldn't use them, but they told me where to take them and I

sold several. That was the beginning. Now I'm fast becoming a specialist

in 'Once-Upon-a-Time' stories."

"I'd like to read some of them," said Wade. "I'm awfully fond of fairy

stories." "Oh, but these are very young fairy stories, like--like this

one." Eve pulled a pencilled sheet of paper from the pages of her book,

smiled, hesitated, and read: "'Once upon a time there was a Fairy

Princess whose name was Dewdrop. She lived in a beautiful Blue Palace

deep in the heart of a Canterbury Bell that swayed to and fro, to and

fro, at the top of the garden wall. And when the sun shone against the

walls of her palace it was filled with a lovely lavender light, and when

the moon shone it was all asparkle with silver. It was quite the most

desirable palace in the whole garden, for it was the only one that had a

view over the great high wall, and many fairies envied her because she

lived in it. One of those who wanted the Blue Palace for himself was a

very wicked fairy who lived under a toadstool nearby. He was so terribly

wicked that I don't like to even tell you about him. He never got up to

breakfast when he was called, he never did as he was told, and he used

to sit for hours on top of his toadstool, putting out his tongue at all

the other fairies who flew by. And he did lots and lots of other

things, too, that only a thoroughly depraved fairy could ever think of,

like putting cockleburs in the nests where the baby birds lived, and

making them very uncomfortable, and chasing the moles about underground,

and making a squeaking noise like a hungry weasel, and scaring the poor

little moles almost to death. Oh, I could tell you lots of dreadful

things about the wicked fairy if I wanted to. His name was Nettlesting,

and his father and mother were both dead, and he lived all alone with

his grandmother, who simply spoiled him! And--'and that's all there is.

How do you like it?"

"Bully," said Wade. "What's the rest of it?"

"I don't know. That's as far as I've got. I suppose, though, that the

wicked fairy tried to oust the Princess from the Blue Palace, and there

were perfectly scandalous doings in Fairyland."

"I hope you'll finish it," said Wade. "I rather like Nettlesting."

"Oh, but you mustn't! The moral is that fairies who don't get up to

breakfast when they're called always come to some bad end. You must

like the Princess and think the wicked fairy quite detestable."

"Can't help it," Wade replied, apologetically. "The wicked fairy had a

sense of humor and I like him. That chasing the moles around and

squeaking like a weasel appeals to me. I'll bet that's just what I'd do

if I were a fairy!"

"I know," said Eve, nodding her head sympathetically. "I'm ashamed to

say it, but I always like the wicked fairies, too. It's dreadfully hard

sometimes for me to give them their deserts. I'm afraid I don't make

them mean enough. What is your idea of a thoroughly depraved fairy, Mr.

Herrick?"

Wade frowned a moment, thinking deeply.

"Well," he said finally, "you might have him go around and upset the

bird-nests and spill the little birds out. How would that do?"

"Beautifully! Oh, he _would_ be wicked; even I couldn't like a fairy who

did that. Thank you ever so much, Mr. Herrick; I would never have

thought of that myself. What a beautifully wicked imagination you must

have! I'll make Nettlesting do that very thing."

"No, don't change him, please; I like him the way he is. When will that

story he published?"

"Oh, I may never finish it, and, if I do, it may never be accepted."

Wade pondered a minute. Then--"Of course, you know it's perfect

nonsense," he charged.

"My story? Isn't that a little cruel, Mr. Herrick?"

"I don't mean your story. I mean the idea of you having to write things

to make a living when--when there's all that money that really belongs

to you. I wish, Miss Walton, you'd look at it sensibly."

"Mr. Herrick, you're not flattering any more."

"Can't help it," answered Wade, doggedly. "You ought to consider the

matter from--from a practical point of view. Now you can't deny--"

"A woman can deny anything," laughed Eve, "especially if it's logic."

"This isn't logic; it's incontrovertible fact."

"Good gracious! No, I don't believe I'd have the courage to deny such a

thing as that. I'm sure it would be quite unlawful, wouldn't it, Mr.

Herrick?"

"Won't you please be serious?" he begged.

"No, not to-day, thank you."

"Then we'll talk about it some other day."

"No, but we won't, please. I'd like you to understand, Mr. Herrick, that

I appreciate your--your kindness, your generosity, but all the argument

in the world won't shake my resolution to take none of Cousin Edward's

money. Now we understand each other, don't we?"

"I suppose so," answered Wade, regretfully. "But you're making a

mistake, Miss Walton. Won't you just think about it?' Won't you take

advice from--from your friends?"

"The last thing I'd do," Eve replied, smilingly. "One's friends are the

very ones to avoid when you want unbiased advice. For instance, there's

Carrie Mullett. I told her what you said the other night, and what do

you suppose her advice was?"

"I'm sure it was sensible," said Wade. "She's a very sensible, as well

as a very charming, lady."

"H'm; well, she said: 'Accept enough to live on, my dear. Your father

would never have wanted you to be dependent on yourself for your

living.'"

"Well?" asked Wade, hopefully.

"She never knew papa," replied Eve. "Besides, I am not dependent on

myself for my living. I have enough to live on even if I never sold a

thing. I'm not so poverty-stricken as you imagine."

"If you'd talk it over with a lawyer--"

"But it isn't a question of law, Mr. Herrick. It's something between me

and my conscience, you see. And surely," she ended with a smile, "you

wouldn't consult a lawyer about an affair of conscience? Why, I might

have to explain what a conscience was!"

"Well," said Wade, grimly. "I've made no promises, and I haven't given

up yet. And you'll find, Miss Walton, that I'm a tiresome chap when it

comes to having my own way."

"And you'll find, Mr. Herrick, that I'm a stubborn woman when it comes

to having mine. There, the battle is on!"

"And I shall win," said Wade, looking up at her with a sudden gleam in

his eyes. For an instant she met his gaze and found herself a little

dismayed at some expression she found there. But--

"We'll see," she answered, calmly. "Is it to be war to the knife, Mr.

Herrick?"

"I hope it won't come to that," he answered. "But there's another thing

I want you to do, and as it's something you can do without wounding your

conscience, I hope you will."

"It sounds formidable. What is it, please?"

"Come over this afternoon and have tea, you and Miss Mullett. Will you?"

"Gladly. I haven't had afternoon tea since I left New York."

"Then shall we say four o'clock? Don't fail me, please, Miss Walton,

for Zephania and I will be terribly disappointed if you do. It's our

first tea, you know."

"Indeed we won't fail you!" answered Eve. "And, please, I like lemon

with mine."

All was ready for the guests long before the time appointed, and Wade,

attired in his best blue serge, whitest vest, and bluest silk tie, and

clean-shaven to a painful degree, paced impatiently between the kitchen,

fragrant with the odor of newly-baked cake, and the parlor, less chill

and formal than usual under the humanizing influence of several bowls

and vases of flowers.

The ladies were quite on time, Miss Mullett looking sweet and cheerful

in pink and white, and Eve absolutely lovely and adorable in pale-blue

linen that matched her eyes to the fraction of a tone. They settled

themselves in the cool parlor and talked while the shades rustled and

whispered in the little scented breeze that stole through the open

windows. Zephania, starched and ribboned, bore proudly in the best

silver tea service, Wade watching the progress of the heavily laden tray

across the room with grave anxiety.

"I'd like you to know," he announced when it was safely deposited on the

little table at Eve's side, "that this is Zephania's spread. She made

the cake herself--and the bread too."

"The dear child!" said Miss Mullett.

"Why, Zephania!" exclaimed Eve.

And Zephania, very proud and rosy, and trying hard to look unconcerned,

made her escape just as Doctor Crimmins, happening by, heard the voices

and demanded admittance with the head of his cane on the window-sill.

That was a very jolly tea-party. The Doctor ate six pieces of cake and

drank three cups of tea, praising each impartially between mouthfuls.

Wade, eating and drinking spasmodically, told of his adventures in

search of lemons.

"Prout's emporium was quite out of them," he explained. "Prout said he

had had some a few weeks ago, but they were sold. So I walked over to

The Centre and got them there."

Miss Mullett eluded him anxiously and insisted that the Doctor should

examine his pulse.

"You ought never to have taken such a walk on such a hot day, Mr.

Herrick. The idea! Why, you might have died! Why don't you scold him,

Eve?"

Eve's eyebrows went up.

"Why should I scold him, Carrie? Mr. Herrick knew that I liked lemon in

my tea and, being a very gallant gentleman, he obtained lemon. You all

know that I am quite heartless where my wants are concerned."

"Well, I think it was extremely wrong, Mr. Herrick, and I shan't touch

another slice of lemon."

"Which," laughed Eve, "considering that you already have four pieces

floating about in your cup, is truly heroic!"

After the ladies had gone the Doctor lingered, and presently, in some

strange way, he found himself in the dining-room with the doors

carefully closed, saying "Ha! H'm!" and wiping his lips gratefully. He

made Wade promise to come and see him, quoted a couplet anent

hospitality--neglecting to give the author's name--and took his

departure. After supper Wade lighted his pipe and started in the

direction of the Doctor's house, but he never got there that evening.

For an hour or more he wandered along the quiet, almost deserted street,

and smoked and thought and watched the effect of the moonlight amidst

the high branches of the elms, finally finding himself back at his own

gate, tapping his pipe against the post and watching the red sparks

drop.

"It isn't going to be very hard, after all," he murmured.