light. There comes Ralph with two big packages. I
wonder what they are: something good, I expect?"

Kat sat down on the ladder to look out the window, as Bea hurried out
on to the porch to meet the young man of packages, and receive his
burdens, if they were offered to her.

"I was meditating this morning," said Ralph, sitting down on the steps
with an exhausted air. "And it struck me, that to drink coffee on such a
night as this--with the thermometer at blood heat in an ice chest--would
be nothing less than a new order of suicide, so I have brought a
substitute, which I venture to hope, will meet with your
approval;--lemonade."

"Oh, you're a blessing," cried Bea, with a joyful pounce on to the
bundles. "It will be so much nicer, and what splendid big lemons, and
enough sugar to make a gallon."

"A gallon won't come amiss, I guess, people are ravenously thirsty such
weather as this; why, I feel like I could drink a quart myself this very
minute;--where's Kat?" asked Ralph, drawing another package from his
pocket.

"Here I am; what's wanted?" answered Kat, putting her head out at the
top of the window.

"Here's something that you are fond of--catch," said Ralph, tossing the
package, which Kat grasped as it flew by. "I looked all over town for
some decent candy for this evening, and couldn't find a thing except
that, which I knew would suit Kat, and put her in a good humor."

"Butter-scotch!" cried Kat, with a shriek of delight. "I haven't had any
in the natural life of ten coons. What bliss! Ralph you're a top!"

"Thank you. I'm getting along, I see; for I suppose a top is a little
higher than a trump, isn't it?"

But Kat had disappeared, so Ralph leaned up lazily against the post,
fanning with his big straw hat, while drinking in with dreamy delight
the quiet beauty before and around him. How intensely quiet nature can
become in the sunshine of a summer afternoon! Even the birds in
sheltering nooks among the shady leaves find greatest happiness in
helping the solitude; and save a light breeze, touching the tops of the
trees, and dipping down to stir the cool grass, lying in deep shade,
there is no evidence that nature's pulse still answers to the quiet
beating of her heart. The Dering home at a time like this, looked more
like an old picture steeped in cool shadows, with glints of sunshine
here and there, and one could almost imagine now, in looking at it, that
the open windows, with glimpses of snowy curtai