rket.'"

He had a basket on his arm. Anne, who was at her easel, looked up. "What
did you buy?"

He laughed. His laugh had in it a quality of youth which seemed to
contradict the signs of age which were upon him. Yet even these signs
were modified by the carefulness of his attire and the distinction of his
carriage. Great-uncle Rodman had been a dandy in his day, and even now
his Norfolk coat and knickerbockers, his long divided beard and flowing
tie gave him an air half foreign, wholly his own.

In his basket was a melon, crusty rolls, peaches and a bottle of cream.

"Such extravagance!" Anne said, as he showed her the bottle.

"It was the price of two chops. And not a lamb the less for it. Two chops
would have been an extravagance, and now we shall feast innocently and
economically."

"Where shall we eat?" Anne asked.

"Under the oak?"

She shook her head. "Too sunny."

"In the garden?"

"Not till to-night--people can see us from the road."

"You choose then." It was a game that they had played ever since she had
come to him. It gave to each meal the atmosphere of an adventure.

"I choose," she clapped her hands, "I choose--by the fish-pond, Uncle
Rod."

The fish-pond was at the end of the garden walk. Just beyond it a wooden
gate connected a high brick wall and opened upon an acre or two of
pasture where certain cows browsed luxuriously. The brick wall and the
cows and the quiet of the corner made the fish-pond seem miles away from
the town street which was faced by the front of Cousin Margaret's house.

The fish-pond was a favorite choice in the game played by Anne and Uncle
Rod. But they did not always choose it because that would have made it
commonplace and would have robbed it of its charm.

Anne, rising to arrange the tray, was stopped by Uncle Rodman. "Sit
still, my dear; I'll get things ready."

To see him at his housekeeping was a pleasant sight. He liked it, and
gave to it his whole mind. The peeling of the peaches with a silver
knife, the selection of a bowl of old English ware to put them in, and
making of the coffee in a copper machine, the fresh linen, the roses as a
last perfect touch.

Anne carried the tray, for his weak arm could not be depended upon; and
by the fish-pond they ate their simple meal.

The old fishes had crumbs and came to the top of the water to get them,
and a cow looking over the gate was rewarded by the remaining half of the
crusty roll. She walked away prese