e we can pipe the lake water and----."

"That will be great," said Lulu, but there was no enthusiasm in her
tone. "And really, Honey, Peachy's in a dreadful state of nerves. Of
course, she knows that Ralph is still crazy about Julia and always will
be, just because Julia's like a stone to him--oh, you know the kind of a
man Ralph is. The only woman you can depend on him to be faithful to is
the one that won't have him round. I don't think that bothers Peachy,
though. She adores Julia. If she could fly a little while in the
afternoon--an hour, say--I know it would cure her."

"Too bad. But, of course, we couldn't let you girls fly again. Besides,
I doubt very much if, after so many cuttings, your wings would ever grow
big enough. You don't realize it yourself, perhaps, but you're much more
healthy and normal without wings."

"I don't mind being without them so much myself"--Lulu's tone was a
little doubtful--"though I think they would help me with Honey-Boy and
Honey-Bunch. Sometimes--." She did not finish.

"And then," Honey went on decidedly, "it's not natural for women to fly.
God never intended them to."

"It is wonderful," Lulu said admiringly, "how men know exactly what God
intended."

Honey roared. "If you'd ever heard the term sarcasm, my dear, I should
think you were slipping something over on me. In point of fact, we don't
know what God intended. Nobody does. But we know better than you; the
man's life broadens us."

"Then I should think--" Lulu began. But again she did not finish.

"We're going to make a tower of rocks on the central island of the
lake," Honey went on. "We'll drag the stones from the beach--those big,
beauty round ones. When it's finished, we're going to cover it with that
vine which has the scarlet, butterfly flowers. Pete says the reflections
in the water will be pretty neat."

"Really. It sounds charming. And, Honey, Chiquita is so lazy. Little
Junior runs wild. He's nearly two and she hasn't made a strip of
clothing for him yet. It's Frank's fault, though. He never notices
anything. I really think you men ought to do something about that."

"And then," Honey went on. But he stopped. "What's the use?" he
muttered under his breath. He subsided, enveloped himself in a cloud of
smoke and listened, half-amused, half-irritated, to Lulu's pauseless,
squirrel-like chatter.

"My dear," Frank Merrill said to Chiquita after dinner, "the New Camp
is growing famously. Six months more and y