dy for a Burnley to marry except a
Sparhallow.

"Only one silk dress--and I want a dozen," Avery had said scornfully.

"What would you do with a dozen silk dresses on a farm?" Janet asked
wonderingly.

"Oh--what indeed?" agreed Avery, with an impatient laugh.

"Randall will think just as much of you in drugget as in silk," said
Janet, meaning to comfort.

Again Avery laughed.

"That is true. Randall never notices what a woman has on. I like a man
who does notice--and tells me about it. I like a man who likes me
better in silk than in drugget. I will wear this rosebud silk when I'm
married, and it will be supposed to last me the rest of my life and be
worn on all state occasions, and in time become an heirloom like Aunt
Matilda's hideous blue satin. I want a new silk dress every month."

Janet paid little attention to this kind of raving. Avery had always
been more or less discontented. She would be contented enough after
she was married. Nobody could be discontented who was Randall
Burnley's wife. Janet was sure of that.

Janet liked picking apples; Avery did not like it; but Aunt Matilda
had decreed that the red apples should be picked that afternoon, and
Aunt Matilda's word was law at the Sparhallow farm, even for wilful
Avery. So they worked and talked as they worked--of Avery's wedding,
which was to be as soon as Bruce Gordon should arrive from Scotland.

"I wonder what Bruce will be like," said Avery. "It is eight years
since he went home to Scotland. He was sixteen then--he will be
twenty-four now. He went away a boy--he will come back a man."

"I don't remember much about him," said Janet. "I was only nine when
he went away. He used to tease me--I do remember that." There was a
little resentment in her voice. Janet had never liked being teased.
Avery laughed.

"You were so touchy, Janet. Touchy people always get teased. Bruce was
very handsome--and as nice as he was handsome. Those two years he was
here were the nicest, gayest time I ever had. I wish he had stayed in
Canada. But of course he wouldn't do that. His father was a rich man
and Bruce was ambitious. Oh, Janet, I wish I could live in the old
land. That would be life."

Janet had heard all this before and could not understand it. She had
no hankering for either Scotland or England. She loved the new land
and its wild, virgin beauty. She yearned to the future, never to the
past.

"I'm tired of Burnley Beach," Avery went on passionately, sh