e constant green. Janet smiled,
recalling an old belief of her childhood. She had asked Pa Tapkins once
why the oaks were so very little. Pa Tapkins had his explanation ready.
It had borne part in his boyhood and was a fully confirmed fact in later
life.

"It all come of the poplars bein' sich liars, Janet. Never trust no
poplar! When things was only sand an' beginnin's in these parts, all the
trees sprung up together. But the poplars, bein' snoopier than common,
shot up considerable an' took a look around. Lordy! what did they see
but the ocean a-roarin' an' makin' as if it was comin' straight over the
dunes! An' the poplars passed the word down t' the little oaks, what was
jest gettin' their bearin's. It scared 'em so it gave 'em a setback from
the fust. But them tall liars wasn't content with statin' truths, day
after day, when the sea lay smilin' like a babby; they handed down a
bigger whopper than what they did when they fust saw the water. 'Nearer!
nearer! it's comin',' that's what they said, mingled 'long with powerful
yarns as to how the monster looked! Naterally the scared oaks didn't
take no interest in shootin' up, when they thought they was so soon t'
be eaten, so they got the habit of crouchin' low an' dependin' on the
poplars fur information. They got a notion, too, of turnin' away from
the sea. Sort o' sot their faces agin it, so t' speak. The pines, every
onct so often, shamed 'em till they blushed deep red,--that comes 'long
'bout spring an' fall,--but no 'mount o' shamin' ever started them int'
springin' up an' seein' fur themselves an' givin' the poplars the lie!
Don't ye place no dependence on a poplar, Janet, they be shivery,
whisperin' critters! They turn pale when there ain't nothin' the matter;
they keep their shade t' themselves, jest plain miserly; an' they pry
too much. 'T ain't proper; 't is 'most human-like."

Janet recalled the old fancy now, leaning against the tall poplar which,
indeed, was whispering in nervous fashion to the blushing scrub oaks
clustering close. Some one was coming up the road from the station. In
the far distance the girl heard the panting shriek of the engine of the
morning train from the city. Could that shambling, weary figure
approaching be Mark? Why, he looked older than Pa Tapkins! Janet waited
until he was abreast of her. His hands were plunged in his pockets, his
shabby valise slung over his shoulder, and his head was bowed upon his
chest.

"Mark!" she cried