"I don't. Do you mind if I put my head on your knee? No, I'm not comfortable. That's better. It's you who spoil it with being sentimental and one-love-one-life-ish. Now for me it's a game that nymphs and goddesses might play at." "But you can't play it alone," said Helen, troubled. "No, that's the fun of it." She smiled against Helen's dress. "I wonder if my young man is at home yet. And there's only a cold supper for him! Dear, dear, dear!" With her apparent obtuseness, Helen said, "It won't matter so much in the summertime." "Ah, that's a comfort," Miriam said, and rolled her head luxuriously. John came through the French window. "I've been looking for you both," he said. "I want to tell you something." "Now it's coming," Miriam muttered. "Sit down, then," Helen said. "We can't see you so high up." "What! in my best clothes? All right." The light was dim, but they felt the joviality that hung about him and saw his teeth exposed in a smile he could not subdue. "The ground's damp, you know. There's a heavy dew." There was a silence through which the poplars whispered in excitement. "Perhaps I am a little deaf," Miriam said politely, "but I haven't heard you telling us anything." "Yes; he said the ground was damp." "So he did! Come along, we'll go in." "No, don't!" he begged. "I know I'm not getting on very fast, but the fact is--I can't bear women to be called after flowers. If it weren't for that I should have told you long ago. And hers is one of the worst," he added sadly. Miriam and Helen shook each other with their silent laughter. "You can call her something else," Helen said. "Mrs. C. would be a jaunty way of addressing her." "Well, anyway, she's going to marry me, bless her heart. Get up! Notya wants to know why supper isn't ready." He did a clumsy caper on the grass. "Who's glad?" "I am," Helen said. "When?" Miriam asked. "Soon." "What did Notya say?" was Helen's question. "Nothing worth repeating. Don't talk of that." "Well," Miriam remarked, "it will be a very interesting affair to watch." "Confound your impudence!" "You're sure to have heaps of children," she warned him. "Hope so." "You'll forget how many there are, and mix them up with the dogs and the cats and the geese. They'll be very dirty." "And perfectly happy." "Oh, yes. Now Helen's will always be clean little prigs who couldn't be naughty if they tried. I shall like yours best, John, though they won't be clean enough to kiss." "Shut up!" he said. "I shall be a lovely aunt. I shall come from London Town with a cornucopia of presents. We're beginning to go," she went on. "First John, and then me, as soon as I am twenty-one." "But Rupert will be here," Helen said quickly. "He'll marry, too, and you'll be left with Notya. Somebody will have to look after her old age. And as you've always been so fond of her--!" "There would be the moor," Helen said, answering all her unspoken thoughts. "It wouldn't comfort me!"