"Yes, I like it. Good evening, Miss Getchell." He lifted his hat; then as though compunction prompted the act, he advanced a step and shook Miss Ann’s limp hand. He was recalling that she had been kind to him in a past when the quality of apples was not material, and the fruit on her gnarly little trees had seemed desirable. "Good evenin’," she answered. "Come and see me if you’re stayin’ long enough." "Thank you. I return to Boston almost immediately." The young man pursued his way, relieved to be free again to give all his attention to the soft summer sky where the light was fading; to the bird-notes which were becoming disconnected and dreamy; to the scents which rose gratefully from willows, and the thorny luxuriance of vines that rioted over the stone wall at the roadside. Miss Berry was still lingering at her gate when he approached the house. She dropped her hands from her elbows and grasped the pickets of the fence at sight of the face under the lifted hat. "Why, Mr. Gorham!" she exclaimed, and opened the gate, her countenance alight with pleased surprise. "I was just thinkin’ about you this minute, as I was standin’ here." "Naturally. I was a coming event, and I cast my shadow before." The visitor shook the plump offered hand with no abstraction now in his eyes, and his teeth gleamed beneath his mustache. "I’ve no doubt I can tell what you were thinking about, too." "Like enough. I s’pose lawyers know everything. Come into the house," said Miss Lovina hospitably. "Not yet. It is far too pleasant here. Where is that old settee that used to be under the oriole elm? Why, there it is, of course, only pushed to the other side," and the speaker started for the desired haven. "Come back, come back, Gorham Page. Don’t you wade through the wet grass!" exclaimed Miss Berry imperatively. Her visitor turned around, laughing. "That sounds natural, Aunt Love," he said. "Well, perhaps it does," replied the other in half-laughing apology; "but haven’t you learned good sense yet? The dew’s a-fallin’, and that grass ought to been mowed last week." "Do you remember when I used to mow it for you?" "I remember when you used to promise to," rejoined Miss Berry, the corners of her mouth still twitching. "Look here. I ain’t goin’ under that elm to set with my feet in the water." "All right," replied Page, succumbing with a sigh, and casting a glance toward the graceful branches of the tallest elm, behind which the new moon glimmered in a primrose sky. "What an evening!" he ejaculated. "’M; dewy though," returned Miss Berry. "I do like those old trees," said her guest slowly, continuing to gaze. "So do the mosquitoes," replied Miss Berry inflexibly. "Come up on to the stoop." Page, with a smile of amusement, followed his hostess to the piazza, where she ensconced him in one rocking chair, and herself in another. "Do the orioles still hold possession of that elm?" "Yes."