They took the road through the village, where the men sat thick on the store steps, and where the young village maidens were taking their afternoon saunter. They met the Sombreros, they met the Oldhams and the Olors--whom did they not meet, enjoying or enduring their afternoon drive? Mr. Andrews had his arm in an unnecessarily conspicuous sling. It was malicious of Goneril to put on that glaring great white silk handkerchief. He was labeled hero, and people could not help looking. Missy did not blame them, but it was horrid all the same. However, when they were out of the village, and there were comparatively few people to meet, the influence of the charming day and the absence of charred remains and disordered rooms began to brighten her, and she almost liked it. They drove along a road by the bay. The tide was high, and was breaking with a contented little purring sound against the pebbles; little boats bent idly with the incoming tide and pulled lazily at their anchors. The bay was as blue as the sky; some white sails drifted on it, for scenic effect, no doubt, for what else? for there was no wind, but only a fresh cool air that came in puffs and ripples across the water. Beside them, on the other side of the road, were green and flowering banks, where Jay saw wild roses and anemones and little nameless and beloved wild flowers. There was privet budding and hawthorn fading, and barberry and catbrier and wild grape, in fresh June coloring. Little dust came here in this narrow road, and with this constant dampness from the bay. Nobody pulled down the vines, and they hung in undisturbed festoons from the cedars and the stones. "I like this," said Jay, with a sort of sigh, after a long moment of silence. "So do I," said Missy, giving him a kiss. The sun was behind the cedar and barberry and catbrier banks. They went as far down the Neck as there was a road to go, and then turned back, "the gait they cam' again." The children were exceptionally good, and no one talked much. It was not the sort of hour when one talks much, good or bad, or thinks much, either. Enough bliss it was to be alive, "But to be young was very heaven." Jay liked it, and Missy liked it too, though she was twenty-eight. And Mr. Andrews, possibly, though he did not say anything about it.