t I almost felt the sensation of alarm a second time as I saw
Nickols' slender, magical, artist's fingers laid in the slim, powerful
hand of the Reverend Mr. Goodloe, but the gentle voice reassured me as
the Harpeth Jaguar answered the intruder, or what he must have felt to
be the intruder, for I had something of that feeling myself at the
advent of my lover at the moment he had chosen for his arrival.

"The trouble began about apple dumplings and hard sauce," I said, as
quickly as my wits would act.

"How are you, Nickols Powers, since we separated 'somewhere in France,'
you with your sketch books and I with my hospital stretchers? I got a
dandy lung clip; did you bring away any lead?" And the parson's voice
was gentle and cordial and full of a laughing reminiscence.

"Didn't smell powder after I left you," answered Nickols, as we all
ascended the steps and stood in a group before the door. "I got my books
full of sketches of bits of treasures that the war might destroy, and
beat it back to civilization. Did the Madonna of the Red Cross you had
in tow come across as sentimentally as was threatened?" Nickols' voice
was as cordial as the Reverend Goodloe's, but something in me made me
resent the question and the manner it was asked.

"She was killed in a field hospital just a few weeks after we left
her--'somewhere in France.' She got God's welcome!" was the answer that
came to the laughing question in a quiet, reverent voice. And as he
spoke the parson started down the steps, then turned for his farewell.

"That--or sweet oblivion," said Nickols, as he came to the edge of the
steps and looked down at the Harpeth Jaguar coolly. I again got the
sense of danger from the tall, lithe figure that stood in the moonlight,
radiant before us in the shadow. "We'll contest that point warmly while
we contest the meeting house Charlotte writes me that you planted in our
garden--of Eden."

"I can contest--if I must," was the serene answer that came back at us
from over the white silk-clad shoulder. "Good night, both of you, and I
hope to see you both again soon. Smell the lilacs bursting bud in your
garden--of Eden!" With which farewell he left us to our greetings.

"That's some man to be lost in the ranks of the shibboleths," said
Nickols with generous ease, as we watched the last glint of the moon on
the yellow head disappearing around the corner. "Degrees from three old
colleges, millions, women lovers in millions, all thrown