It was one of the warm, golden days that come sometimes in the fall, as though the summer, being sorry to go, sent it to bid a last regretful good-by. A week had passed since the fair, and during that time Janet had made many trips to her Kingdom and she and Peter had become fast friends. They read their favorite books aloud to each other and played a game of "pretend" that would have been impossible to two people who had not both understood the meaning of loneliness. To-day Janet found Peter deep in a thick, uninteresting-looking book, but as she appeared in the window he closed it and jumped up. "Good morning, Princess," he greeted. "I thought you were never coming, I chopped wood, fed the chickens and did all I could think of so that I wouldn't be missed." "I couldn't get away a minute sooner,"--Janet made a comical face. "Mrs. Blake came to see grandmother yesterday, and of course she had to tell her that she was so surprised to learn that I didn't like to sew. Grandmother didn't say much, but this morning she made me hem some dish towels, for of course she knows I can sew passably well when I want to. Now she'll show them to Mrs. Blake the next time she comes." A note of affection crept into her voice as she added, "Grandmother's like that." "What are you reading?" she inquired a minute later. "A book about sheep," Peter replied. "It's kind of dull, but I like it. I imagine sometimes that I--" He hesitated and blushed. "What?" Janet encouraged. "Nothing, anyway you'd laugh at me if I told you." "I would not!" "Well--" "Well, what?" "Oh, it's just a crazy notion of mine, but I like to think sometimes that I own this place, and then I plan what I'd do with it, and one of the plans is to turn it into a sheep farm,"--he laughed nervously--"I guess I'd better stop dreaming though and get to real work now." Janet noticed that he laid stress on the word "now," and she looked at him inquiringly. He pretended not to notice her. "Peter," she said finally, "it isn't nice to be mysterious. What _is_ the matter with you?" Peter ran his fingers through his red hair but he did not reply. Instead, he put the big book back on its shelf and went over to the window. "It's awfully dark in here, don't you think? And it's so bully out of doors. Let's go fishing," he suggested. Janet nodded. "All right; we won't catch anything but it will be fun anyway. Come ahead." Peter led the way toward the shore and up to a dark green canoe. Janet was properly excited; she had never been in a canoe before. None of the girls she knew were at all interested in boating except to go off in sailing parties for picnics, and because the bay was very often rough and always dangerous none of the boys were allowed to have them. She smiled as she remembered Mrs. Waters' terror when Harry, the summer before, had screwed up his courage to ask for one. Yet here was Peter acting as though the most ordinary thing in the world was to go fishing in one.