r-gray of rocks, and the
diamond-dazzle of water glimpsed between feathery tree branches, or the
jewelled gleam of wild flowers scattered by the roadside, and the pale
flame of mulleins straight and tall as lighted candles in the grass.

Isn't it a sweet thing for the world that there should have been men who
loved making the rock-bound fields of history blossom with delicate
flowers, just as monks of ancient days illumined quite dull texts?--men
like Washington Irving, for instance.

I always loved Washington Irving, and so I'm glad to say did Jack; but
he came back to life and actually walked with us that day. Perhaps it
sounds impudent and conceited to say this, but I don't mean it so, and
if he knew how humble and happy we felt as we came under his spell, I do
think he wouldn't have snubbed us. No, he would never have snubbed any
one! He was much too human, and _understanding_. He wouldn't scornfully
have called us "tourists," but would have realized that we were
worshippers at a shrine. Of course I _don't_ include Ed Caspian or Mrs.
Shuster! C., when the time came to leave our cars outside the
with-difficulty-found gates of Sunnyside, put on the airs of a _grand
seigneur_ who knows all that is to be known already. He said (so Peter
told us later): "It's not much of a place; quite a small house, not
worth getting out for." And he actually proposed that Patty should sit
in the car with him while the others explored! Pat wasn't "taking any."
She jumped out, and rather than see her walk away with Peter, C. had to
follow. As for Mrs. Shuster, she can't bear to walk if there's a chance
of sitting still, especially since she's taken to these fearfully
tall-heeled, new-fashioned, high-necked boots which make our feet look
like the hoofs of rather _chic_ cows: incredible heels like the Venetian
beauties used to wear. She, like Caspian, reminded her beloved of the
blessing for those who only stand (sit!) and wait. But Larry said he'd
something important to tell Pat; then strolled with Idonia Goodrich and
never went near his daughter. Mrs. Shuster was reduced to her peace
partner; and, oh, you _can't_ think what she looks like when she pouts!

We had to thank Larry for an open sesame to the doors of Sunnyside,
however; for he has some distant acquaintance with the grand-nephew of
Washington Irving who has inherited the quaint, delightful house with
its red gables and extraordinarily intelligent-looking windows. Anybody
is a