y, freezing.

He looked harder at her and pulled his mustache; then he leaned down to
prod a farewell into his son's ribs. Young Frank immediately began to
yell. The father chuckled sardonically and strode off to the cart,
calling loudly as he went for Old Man Veal. He paused, with his foot on
the step, to impress something on the stealthy old man. Then he told
Thomas to get down and Veal to take his place. There was a sound of
wheels, and everybody sighed with relief.

The long drowsy June day buzzed on. They all lay about in the shade,
wishing they could splash through the stream like the cattle.

"I can't think why we don't all go paddling, I can't," said May.

"Oh, why ever not--not with young Frank?" cried Jenny, clapping her
hands.

"Of course."

"And Granfa must come," Jenny insisted.

"Oh, no, no, no," declared Granfa, smiling very proudly at the
suggestion. "No, no, no! But I might go along with 'ee and pick a few
wrinkles off the rocks."

Jenny thought how imperative it was for Maurice to be out of these
planned allurements of summer. She would never enjoy herself, if all the
time she felt he were close by, liable to appear suddenly. Certainly she
would see him to-morrow.

"We might even bathe," said May dauntlessly.

"Well, don't 'ee tell Zack, then," Granfa advised. "For I suppose he can
see the devil in the deep sea so clear as anywhere else. That man's got
a nose for evil, I believe."

The sun was now hanging over the marsh in a dazzling haze of gold in
which the midges danced innumerable. Long shadows threw themselves
across the hills. The stream of light dried up as the sun went down into
the sea. Cool scented airs, heralds of night, traveled up the valley;
traveled swiftly like the spray of fountains.

Jenny went to bed soon after half-past nine. It was scarcely dark. Along
her sill were great crimson roses like cups of cool wine, and from every
ghostly white border of the garden came up the delicious odor of pinks
in full June bloom. Moths were dancing, fluttering, hovering: a large
white owl swept past in a soundless curve. And while she brooded upon
this perfumed silence, away in London the girls were trooping down for
the second ballet, were giving the last touch with a haresfoot to their
carmine beauty, were dabbing the last powder on their cheeks or rubbing
the liquid white upon their wrists and hands. How hot it must be in the
theater. She heard quite plainly the tinkle of the sequ