e are going out on the river."

There was an oppressive silence of ten minutes after she left, during
which Carter smiled behind his paper and Mrs. Nelson gazed indignantly
at the tea-pot. Then she tapped the bell.

"Rachel," she said impressively, "go to Miss Ruth's room and get her
veil and gloves and sun-shade. Have Thomas take them to the boat-house
at once."

CHAPTER XVII

UNDER THE WILLOWS

Between willow-fringed banks of softest green, and under the bluest of
summer skies, the little river took its lazy Southern way. Tall blue
lobelias and golden flags played hide-and-seek in the reflections of
the gentle stream, and an occasional spray of goldenrod, advance-guard
of the autumn, stood apart, a silent warning to the summer idlers.

Somewhere overhead a vireo, dainty poet of bird-land, proclaimed his
love to the wide world; while below, another child of nature, no less
impassioned, no less aching to give vent to the joy that was bursting
his being, sat silent in a canoe that swung softly with the pulsing of
the stream.

For Sandy had followed the highroad that led straight into the Land
of Enchantment. No more wanderings by intricate byways up golden hills
to golden castles; the Love Road had led him at last to the real world
of the King Arthur days--the world that was lighted by a strange and
wondrous light of romance, wherein he dwelt, a knight, waiting and
longing to prove his valor in the eyes of his lady fair.

Burning deeds of prowess rioted in his brain. Oh for dungeons and
towers and forbidding battlements! Any danger was welcome from which
he might rescue her. Fire, flood, or bandits--he would brave them all.
Meanwhile he sat in the prow of the boat, his hands clasped about his
knees, utterly powerless to break the spell of awkward silence that
seemed to possess him.

[Illustration: "Burning deeds of prowess rioted in his brain"]

They had paddled in under the willows to avoid the heat of the sun,
and had tied their boat to an overhanging bough.

Ruth, with her sleeve turned back to the elbow, was trailing her hand
in the cool water and watching the little circles that followed her
fingers. Her hat was off, and her hair, where the sun fell on it
through the leaves, was almost the color of her eyes.

But what was the real color of her eyes? Sandy brought all his
intellect to bear upon the momentous question. Sometimes, he thought,
they were as dark as the velvet shadows in the heart o