e
it came, saw sitting there an old lady who was like the voice, pretty
and blithe and brave, though with no affectation of a youth long gone.
His face lighted at sight of her, and he hastened up her garden path.

"Dear Mrs. Caldwell!" he cried, both hands extended. And then, with
pleased alacrity, he settled himself upon the step at her feet.

"It's worth while taking a walk up this way," he remarked
appreciatively.

"Now confess," laughed the old lady, "confess that _I_ am not the
adventure you are seeking this afternoon!"

"I wasn't seeking one at all," disclaimed Peter, "but I couldn't refuse
a divine accident." And as she shook a chiding head at his flattery,
he went on firmly: "It's the wayside adventures like this which have
long since decided me to start out with none in view. The gods
presiding over a wayfarer's destiny always offer him something better
than he could have provided for himself!"

"Oh, Peter! Peter!" protested the old lady, "what a book of pretty
speeches you are!" But the two smiled at each other with the happy
understanding of friends to whom disparity of years was no barrier.

"And how does your garden grow, Mistress Mary?" Peter presently
inquired.

Mrs. Caldwell looked out upon her trim flower beds where bloomed tulip
and crocus in April festival. "My silver bells and cockle shells grow
very well," she answered, in the spirit of the rhyme, "but"--and her
delicate old face quivered into an anxious quickening of life--"but,
Oh, Peter! I fear my pretty maid grows too fast for her own good."

"Sheila? Then you've seen?" And Peter sat up eagerly, shedding the
garment of his indolence.

"Then you've seen!" returned Mrs. Caldwell. "But what have you seen,
Peter? What do you think of her?"

"I think," said he slowly, "that she has the most delightful mind I've
ever encountered."

Pride leapt into Mrs. Caldwell's eyes, but, as if to make quite certain
of him, she demurred: "She's only a little girl, Peter--only a little
twelve-year-old girl."

"Yes," he assented. "That's why I'm so sure of her quality. At her
age--to be what she is! Why, Mrs. Caldwell, her mind is like light!
And it isn't just a wonderfully acute intelligence either. She has the
feeling, the intuition, too. It's as if she thinks with her heart
sometimes!" And his face glowed as it never did save for something
precious and rare.

"Have you considered her future?" he added.

Mrs. Caldwell smiled: "Wh