peace of the
Cape, for two weeks of which, each year, they had had to work fifty
weeks. Think of stepping out to a view of the sea instead of a view of
Brambach's laundry! They were, in fact, as glad to get into the open as
the city-seeking youngster is to get away from it.

On the landward side of the bleak house, crimson-rambler roses were
luxuriant, and a stiff shell-bordered garden gave charily of small
marigolds. Riches were these, by comparison with the two geraniums in a
window-box which had been their New York garden. But they had an even
greater pride--the rose-arbor. Sheltered by laurel from the sea winds
was a whitewashed lattice, covered with crimson ramblers. Through a gap
in the laurels they could see the ocean, stabbingly blue in contrast to
the white dunes which reared battlements along the top of the gravel
cliff. Far out a coasting schooner blossomed on the blue skyline. Bees
hummed and the heart was quiet. Already the Applebys had found the place
of brooding blossoms for which they had hoped; already they loved the
rose-arbor as they had never loved the city. He nuzzled her cheek like
an old horse out at pasture, and "Old honey!" he whispered.

Two days more, and they had the tea-room ready for its opening.

Father insisted on giving the evening over to wild ceremonies. He played
"Juanita" and "Kelly with the Green Necktie," and other suitable chants
upon that stately instrument, the mouth-organ, and marched through the
tea-room banging on a dishpan with the wooden salad-spoon. Suddenly he
turned into the first customer, and seating himself in a lordly manner,
with his legs crossed, his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets and his hands
waving fan-wise, he ordered, "Lettuce sandwiches, sody-water, a
tenderloin steak, fish-balls, a bottle of champagne, and ice-cream with
beef gravy, and hustle my order, young woman."

Mother was usually too shy for make-believe, but this time she was
stirred to stand with her fat doll-arms akimbo, and to retort, "You'll
get nothing here, young fellow. This is a place for ladies and gents
only!"

They squealed and hugged each other. From the kitchen door the Portygee
maid viewed her employers with lofty scorn, as Father gave a whole
series of imitations of the possible first customer, who, as variously
presented, might be Jess Willard, Senator Lodge, General von Hindenburg,
or Mary Pickford.

At four next afternoon, with the solemn trembling of an explorer
hoisting th