Jeffreys gave the hand he held a closer grip. "You are a good friend, Matthews. Let me echo your offer; if there is anything I can ever do for you, command me. Good-by." Berkley laid his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Thank you, Jeffreys. I will remember. Good luck to you and good-by." So they parted and the boat slipping through the darkness over the quiet waters of the river that night, bore away him whose coming and going both seemed made under unpropitious stars. It was a warm afternoon in February, one of those days when Spring seems close at hand by reason of a bluebird's early note, and the appearance of some venturesome crocus in the grass. February brings such days in this part of Maryland. The morning's mail had given Linda the happiness of receiving a magazine in which were some of her verses, accepted and paid for. This step, which carried her beyond the satisfaction of seeing herself in print, merely by compliment, was one which well agreed with the springlike day. She was sitting at the piano joyously singing: "The spring has come, the flowers in bloom The happy birds--" She broke off suddenly, for in through the window open to the floor came Berkley. "Don't stop," he begged. "I love to hear you." They stood smiling at one another, before either spoke again, then Linda turned back to the piano to finish the song while Berkley leaned above her to watch her slim fingers moving over the keys. "It just suits the day, doesn't it?" she said when she had finished. "Did you see that there was a crocus by the side of the walk? And this morning I heard a bluebird." "And that is what makes you look so happy?" "Not altogether. Sit down over there by the little window, and if you will be very good I will show you something." He obediently took the place assigned him, where the window seat ran along the small raised platform, and Linda produced the magazine. "There," she said, opening to a certain page. "And it is paid for," she added triumphantly. Berkley read the lines through. "You have climbed into fame, haven't you?" he said. "Are you feeling very high and mighty? Would you like me to sit on the floor at your feet. It would be very easy on this platform." She laughed. It was good to hear the old foolish manner of speech again. "No, I won't insist upon that, though I can't tell what I may require if this continues. Do you like my verses, Berk?" "Yes, very much. I suppose they are really better than these. He took from his pocket-book a little clipping, 'The Marching Pines,' but I shall always care more for these. I shall never be quite so fond of any others, perhaps." "Why?" Berkley did not answer, but instead asked, "Did Jeffreys tell you of his determination not to follow up his claim?" "Yes, he told me." Linda looked grave. "It was generous of him, don't you think?" A half smile played around Linda's lips. "Yes, I suppose it was. He meant to do me a great kindness and I appreciate it."