“We had a sweet little wedding,” said Mary Cecily dreamily, “and then we came away together. We had no particular place to go to, but Bryan said he thought he would like to wander for a time. That suited me, too. But after a little we got tired of that. Besides, we saw that our money would soon give out. So, when we heard of this woodland up here for sale for almost nothing, we bought it. The Rowantrees were once great landed proprietors, but in recent years they had been obliged to live in cities, and it had not suited them. At least, it did not suit my husband. So here we are. We lead a very peaceful, retired life. Mr. Rowantree loves quiet, as he said to you. And I’ve the children if ever I feel the loneliness stealing on me.” A call sounded through the woods. “They think we’re lost,” smiled Mrs. Rowantree. “And we must be getting back to the house, but before we go I want you to promise me that you will not speak of my sorrow. It’s a queer way I have with me, not liking to see sympathy save in the eyes of my own chosen friends. Come now, and I hope and pray Miss Pace will not accuse me of rudeness!” “Aunt Zillah? Never!” said Azalea. “It’s a wonderful story you’ve told me, Mrs. Rowantree—so sad I can hardly believe it—much sadder than mine, and that is sad enough. Not that I feel sad,” she added hastily. “Since I became a McBirney I’m a very happy girl.” “But you’re not really a McBirney, are you? Those good mountain people haven’t really adopted you?” “Not by law, ma’am,” smiled Azalea. “But what does that matter if we love each other?” “And you have Miss Carin and her parents for your friends. That must be a great comfort to you.” “Oh, indeed, they’re like flowers in the garden of the world,” cried Azalea with one of her pretty extravagant speeches. “Indeed, I believe it, my dear. Yes, we are coming,” she called. “Did you think I had locked this dryad up in an oak tree?” she asked playfully, her arm about Azalea, as they came up to the gallery. Her husband threw a quick glance at her. He knew how to read the changes on her emotional face. “Tut,” he said under his breath to her. “David again! You shouldn’t, mavourneen.” “She’s a treasure, Bryan,” his wife whispered, indicating Azalea with a little nod of the head. “It never could do any harm to ease my heart to her.” “Miss Pace thinks they must all be on their way, Mary Cecily,” he said aloud. “I must have the horses brought ’round.” “Oh, have a taste of tea before you start,” pleaded Mrs. Rowantree. But Aunt Zillah as politely declined. So, presently, Zillah Pace and her three young people rode quietly beneath the lengthening shadows through the sweet smelling woodland to their home. This time, Aunt Zillah and Carin rode together, and Azalea’s pony tried in vain to keep pace with Keefe’s raw-boned horse. Keefe had much to say of the day.