ened eyes, the long, perfect
brows, the deep, rich colouring, all combined to make such a picture as
good Mrs. Peck realised to be superb.

Again the pure contralto trill came from the red lips, and then, with a
sudden movement that had in it something of the grace of an alighting
bird, Columbine turned, swinging her empty can.

"I've promised to take Mr. Knight to the Spear Point Caves by
moonlight," she said. "He's doing a moonlight study, and he doesn't
know the lie of the quicksand."

"Sakes alive!" said Mrs. Peck. "What made him ask you? There's Adam
knows every inch of the shore better nor what you do."

"He didn't ask," said Columbine. "I offered. And I know the shore just
as well as Adam does, Aunt Liza. Adam himself showed me the lie of the
quicksand long ago. I know it like my own hand."

Mrs. Peck pursed her lips. "I doubt but what you'd better take Adam
along too," she said. "I wouldn't feel easy about you. And there won't
be any moonlight worth speaking of till after ten. It wouldn't do for
you to be traipsing about alone even with Mr. Knight--nice young
gentleman as he be--at that hour."

"Aunt Liza, I don't traipse!" Momentary indignation shone in the
beautiful eyes and passed like a gleam of light. "Dear Aunt Liza,"
laughed Columbine, "aren't you funny?"

"Not a bit," maintained Mrs. Peck. "I'm just common-sensical, my dear.
And it ain't right--it never were right in my young day--to go walking
out alone with a man after bedtime."

"A man, Aunt Liza! Oh, but a man! An artist isn't a man--at least, not
an ordinary man." There was a hint of earnestness in Columbine's tone,
notwithstanding its lightness.

But Mrs. Peck remained firm. "It wouldn't make it right, not if he was
an angel from heaven," she declared.

Columbine's gay laugh had in it that quality of youth that surmounts all
obstacles. "He's much safer than an angel," she protested, "because he
can't fly. Besides, the Spear Point Caves are all on this side of the
Point. You could watch us all the time if you'd a mind to."

But Mrs. Peck did not laugh. "I'd rather you didn't go, my dear," she
said. "So let that be the end of it, there's a good girl!"

"Oh, but I--" began Columbine, and broke off short. "Goodness, how you
made me jump!" she said instead.

Rufus, his burly form completely blocking the doorway, was standing half
in and half out of the garden, looking at her.

"Lawks!" said Mrs. Peck. "So you did me! Good evening, Rufus