"Star of my heart," she said, grinding her teeth, "he is a pig and the son of a pig! Have no fear, _Madrecita_, I will herd him, like cattle, away from thy sight." She kissed up to God. JANE. _The Silver Gray House, On the Lifting Hill, Three Meadows._ I have ceased to reckon time by calendars, Sally dearest, but I think we have been here, Michael Daragh and I, seven or ten days. Oh, yes, the others are still here,--at least, they are on the island, but we never see them. They come and go like Brownies, like elves, like the "Little People" of Michael's land, bringing our meals and our mail, vanishing silently.... They stand between us and the village and the Deacon and the world. They are our shields and barriers; our sure defense; our shock absorbers. I shouldn't _think_ of ever going on a honeymoon without them. We have signed them up for all our anniversary excursions, and between whiles we'll loan them to friends for wedding trips and rent them to a select public,--there'll be miles of Waiting List as soon as they are known! Make your reservations early! Whole islands and oceans of love, old dear! Devotedly, JANE VAIL DARAGH. (_Mrs. Michael Daragh!!!_) P.S. Sally, dearest, remember what I said, the night before I left Wetherby Ridge for the first time?--That I wasn't really "going away" from you all, but only "going on?" I lost my way for a while, Sally; I was content with just "getting on," but he found me and herded me sternly back to the highroad, and now, always and forevermore, no credit to the likes of me, but because I've espoused the Captain-General of the Hosts of Heaven, I'll be going on--and _on_--with Michael Daragh. And, oh, my dear, but indeed--as he said of me long ago--I have been _anointed with the oil of joy above my fellows_! J. V. D. End of Project Gutenberg's Jane Journeys On, by Ruth Comfort Mitchell