ychology, modern lovers, stood
hand in hand, as though the age of machinery were a myth; as though he
were a piping minstrel and she a shepherdess. Before them was the open
road and all around them the hum of bees.

A close, listless heat held Monday afternoon, even on the hilltop. The
clay tennis-court was baking; the worn bricks of the terrace reflected
a furnace glow. The Kerrs had disappeared for a nap. Carl, lounging
with Ruth on the swinging couch in the shade, thought of the slaves in
New York offices and tenements. Then, because he would himself be back
in an office next day, he let the glare of the valley soothe him with
its wholesome heat.

"Certainly would like a swim," he remarked. "Couldn't we bike down to
Fisher's Pond, or maybe take the Ford?"

"Let's. But there's no bath-house."

"Put a bathing-suit under your dress. Sun 'll dry it in no time, after
the swim."

"As you command, my liege." And she ran in to change.

They motored down to Fisher's Pond, which is a lake, and stopped in a
natural woodland-opening like a dim-lighted greenroom. From it
stretched the enameled lake, the farther side reflecting unbroken
woods. The nearer water-edge was exquisite in its clearness. They saw
perch fantastically floating over the pale sand bottom, among
scattered reeds whose watery green stalks were like the thin columns
of a dancing-hall for small fishes. The surface of the lake, satiny as
the palm of a girl's hand, broke in the tiniest of ripples against
white quartz pebbles on the hot shore. Cool, flashing, golden-sanded,
the lake coaxed them out of their forest room.

"A lot like the Minnesota lakes, only smaller," said Carl. "I'm going
right in. About ready for a swim? Come on."

"I'm af-fraid!" She suddenly plumped on the earth and hugged her
skirts about her ankles.

"Why, blessed, what you scared of? No sharks here, and no undertow.
Nice white sand----"

"Oh, Hawk, I was silly. I felt I was such an independent modern woman
a-a-and I aren't! I've always said it was silly for girls to swim in a
woman's bathing-suit. Skirts are so cumbersome. So I put on a boy's
bathing-suit under my dress--and--I'm terribly embarrassed."

"Why, blessed----Well, I guess you'll have to decide." His voice was
somewhat shaky. "Awful scared of Carl?"

"Yes! I thought I wouldn't be, with you, but I'm self-conscious as can
be."

"Well, gee! I don't know. Of course----Well, I'll jump in, and you can
decide."

He peel