rl and the big, unspoiled country boy had found each other. And
a great content possessed them. They did not know as yet what it was
but knew only that the world for them was complete and every hour
perfect that they spent together.

They sat under their tree even after the games and races had begun and
were rather glad that in the excitement over the afternoon's programme
they two were forgotten and free to roam about.

They went down to the creek where the burned arm was unbandaged.
Jocelyn was rosily pleased to see David frown at the ugly raw scar. He
gathered the leaves of some weed strange to her and when he had pounded
them to a cool pulp he laid them on the burn and once more bound up the
arm. He was as glad to do it as she was to have him and each knew how
the other felt.

They strolled through the now deserted cemetery and read the epitaphs
on the mossy stones and yet nothing seemed old or sad or caused them
the least surprise. They saw Nanny Ainslee standing with Cynthia's son
before a stone that had neither name nor date but only the love-sad
words:

"I Miss Thee So."

But they thought nothing of it. The world was far away and they were
serenely happy in a rarer one of their own.

Slowly the golden afternoon was waning. Little children were beginning
to pull on their stockings, mothers began packing up the baskets and
fathers were harnessing the horses. Soon everybody was ready and Green
Valley, Spring Road and Elmwood, with many waves of flags and hands,
each started down its own road toward home.

It was a tired, happy town that straggled down Main Street just as the
sun was gilding it with his last rays. Green Valley mothers were
everywhere hurrying their broods on to bread and milk and bed. In the
sunset streets only the little groups of grown-ups lingered to talk
over the day and exchange last jokes before going on toward home and
rest.

CHAPTER X

THE KNOLL

There were whole days when Cynthia's son did nothing but loaf,--whole
days when he went off by himself into the still corners of his world
and let the whole wide universe talk and sing to him and awe him with
its mystery.

He would lie for hours in some cool, shady fern nook under a sheltering
road hedge or in the shade of some giant tree friend. At such times he
scaled the thinking, wondering part of himself and opened wide his
heart to the great whisper that rippled the grain, to the sweet song
that swelled t