y soft spring afternoon, to buy gloves for
Julia and a scarf pin for Richie, who was to be Jim's best man, and to
go into the big railroad office to get tickets for the use of Dr. and
Mrs. James Studdiford three days later.

"Where are we going?" Julia asked idly, her eyes moving about the bright
pigeonholed office, and to the window, and the street beyond. Jim for
answer put his thumb upon the magic word that stared up at her from the
long ticket.

"New York!" she whispered; her radiant look flashed suddenly to him.
"Oh, Jim!" And as they went out he heard a little sigh of utter content
beside him. "It's too much!" said Julia. "To go to New York--with you!"

"Wherever you go, you go with me," he reminded her, with a glance that
brought the swift colour to her face.

Then they went down to the boat. It was the first hot afternoon of the
season; there was a general carrying of coats, and people were using the
deck seats; there was even some grumbling at the heat. But Sausalito was
at its loveliest, and Julia felt almost oppressed by the exquisite
promise of summer that came with the sudden sound of laughter and voices
in lanes that had long been silent, and with the odour of dying grass
and drooping buttercups beside the road. The Toland garden was full of
roses, bright in level sunshine, windows and doors were all wide open,
and the odours from bowls of flowers drifted about the house. Barbara,
lovely in white, came to meet them.

"Come in, you poor things, you must be roasted! Jim, you're as red as a
beet; go take a bath!" said Barbara. "And Julia, Aunt Sanna is here, and
she says that you're to lie down for not less than an hour. And there
are some packages for you, so come up and lie down on my bed, and we'll
open them!"

"Barbara, I am so happy I think my heart will burst!" said Julia, ten
minutes later, from Barbara's pillows.

"Well, you ought to be, my good woman! Jim Studdiford--when he's
sober--is as good a husband as you're likely to get!" said Barbara,
laughing. "Now, look, Julia, here's a jam pot from the Fowlers--Frederic
Fowlers--I call that decent of them! Janey, come in here and put this
jam pot down on Julia's list! And this heavy thing from the Penroses. I
hope to goodness it isn't more carvers!"

It was Barbara who said later to Julia, in a confidential undertone:

"You know you've got to write personal notes for every bit of this
stuff, Julia, right away? Lots of girls do it on their honeym