e a
call. He went on to the house, and Peter, after that moment of
listening, also kept on the way that took him to his work. He, too,
walked with quickened step, and there was light in his eyes. All the
vibrations of his being quickened to the song; but he was thinking what
a stunning world it was to have such things in it: paint and canvas and
disturbing songs and broken hearts. The song ceased suddenly. He knew
why. Osmond had gone into the room and Rose had met him. Peter sighed.
Then he laughed, took grannie's empty glass from her, and sat down to
work.

"It's a funny world, grannie," he remarked.

Grannie smiled at him. She understood him also, though he was not in her
heart as Osmond was.

"You like your work, don't you, Peter?" she remarked. "It's just the
right thing for you."

Peter plunged at it.

"It's the best thing out," he affirmed. "It's the top bubble on the
biggest wave." Then he too, because the song had ceased, began one on
his own account, with an inward rueful apology to his broken heart. For
the song should have been a sad one, but Peter could not paint when the
vibrations lagged, and so he made it gay.

Osmond followed the voice, and met Rose in the sitting-room, where she
stood waiting for him. She wore a morning gown of demure dimity, with a
little ruffle about her singing throat. When she saw him, she laughed,
for no reason. Then she blushed. For Osmond was not the same. He came up
to her and took her hands.

"You don't look like a goddess," he said.

They were smiling at each other out of an equal hope.

"I'm not a goddess. I'm just girl."

"Not a terrible Parisian?"

She looked down at her dress, that had wrought the simplicity.

"I put it on for you," she said. "You didn't like my chiffons that other
night."

"How did you know I should come?"

"You knew it. Why shouldn't I know it? Are the wires down?"

Then, by one impulse, they began to walk back and forth through the
room, hand in hand, like children.

"You go next week," he said, although he knew she did.

"Yes."

"When do you come back?"

"As soon as I can race through all the business there. In a month, I
hope--perhaps less."

"Shall you come straight here?"

"I may stay a day or two in New York. I shall bring letters. I shall try
to get a footing there."

"I will meet you in New York. Grannie has folks there. I'll take you to
them."

It was a different man that spoke, decisive, dominating. She flushed