A day or two later the party from the city arrived, and great was the excitement in the village. Sol Mantring’s wife, who had learned of what was expected, made a trip to Hayn Farm daily on one pretext or other, reaching there always just before the time of the arrival of the train from the city, received the deserved reward of her industry, and before sunset of the day on which the party arrived everybody in the village knew that when Lucia stepped from the carriage, at the farm-house door, Mrs. Hayn caught her in her arms and almost hugged the life out of her. Everybody knew, also, that the party was to be there for only twenty-four hours. The shortness of the time at their disposal was probably the reason that Phil and Lucia disappeared almost immediately after the meal which quickly followed their arrival. They went to the lily-pond; there were no lilies yet upon the water, but the couple did not notice their absence; they could see them just where they should be,--just where they were, ten months before. They got again into the old birch-bark canoe; it was not as clean as it should have been for the sake of Lucia’s expensive travelling-dress, for the small boys of the Hayn family had not taken as good care of it as Phil would do, but Phil made a cushion of leaves, which Lucia slowly expanded into a couch, as she half reclined while she identified the scenes which her farmer-boy guide and boatman had shown her the summer before. Phil thought her expression angelic as she dreamily gazed about her; yet when her eyes reverted to him, as they frequently did, he informed himself that there were even gradations of angelic expression. They even rode in the old beach-wagon; the ocean was still as cold as winter; bathing was out of the question; but Phil had a persistent fancy for reminding his sweetheart of every change there had been in their relations, and in himself; and Lucia understood him. “It’s dreadfully mean of those two to go off by themselves, and not help us have any fun,” complained Margie to Agnes Dinon, when the latter returned from a stroll with Mr. and Mrs. Tramlay, during which she had selected a satisfactory cottage-site. “Let’s have a run. I know every foot of this country. Do you see that clump of dwarfed cedars off yonder on the ridge, with the sky for a background? They’re lovely: I’ve tried again and again to sketch them. Come over and look at them.” Away the couple plodded. As they approached the clump they saw that a road had been partly sunk in front of it; and as they drew nearer they saw a man sodding a terrace which sloped from the ridge to the road. “That’s not right,” said another man, who was looking on. “That sod must be laid more securely, or the first rain will wash it away. I’ll show you how to do it. See here.”