girls sit in the back. Did Eveley explain
that I only expect to be--your driver, and your valet, and your
servant--for a while."

Tears brightened in Miriam's eyes. "Oh, Lem," she cried, holding out her
hands. "How can people talk of servants who have loved--as we have
loved?"

Eveley immediately went into a deep and concentrated study of the rear
tires, for Miriam was close in her husband's arms, and his tears were
falling upon her fragrant curls.

After a while, he held her away from him and looked into her tender face.

"It isn't--you aren't coming, then, just because it is your duty to give
me every chance," he whispered.

"Oh, no, dear, just because I love you."

Eveley was still utterly immersed in the condition of the tires.

"We'll try it again, Lem--"

"Oh, Miriam," he broke in, "it isn't any trial this time. This is
marriage."

Eventually they got started toward home and had driven many miles before
Miriam noticed that her uncovered hair was blowing in the wind, and
remembered that she had left the ranch without notice and that all her
things were there. But what were simple things and formal notices when
human hearts were finding happiness and faith?

In the Cloud Cote, Eve's friends were patiently awaiting her return.
Nolan was reading poetry aloud to himself in the roof garden, and
Lieutenant Ames was laboriously picking chords on the piano, with Marie
near him strumming on the mandolin.

The first creak of the rustic stair brought them all to the landing to
greet her.

"Reconciliation," shouted Nolan, before she was half-way up. "Miriam is
home, and they have already lived happily ever after."

Eveley began immediately to give an account of the day's happenings
standing motionless on the third step from the top until she finished her
recital.

Then she went back down, and gave an impatient tap on the seventh stair.

"Well, you started something," she said to it solemnly. "And you ought to
be satisfied now, if anybody is. To-morrow I shall crown you with a
wreath of laurel."

Then she went up again. "Does this do anything to your theory about
duty?" asked Nolan. "Does it prove it, or disprove it, or what? I can not
seem to get any connection."

"But there is a connection," she said, with a smile. "It absolutely and
everlastingly proves the Exception."

"Eveley Ainsworth, don't ever say exception again until you can explain
it," cried Nolan. "I dream of exceptions by night, and I lega