"I'm glad it happened here in this garden," she said contentedly. "I seem to feel more at home in this atmosphere. Benten shall be my patron saint from this day." "Shall we spend our honeymoon in Japan?" he asked. "Why not keep this setting to the end?" She clapped her hands. "Splendid!" she cried. "That will be Paradise;--and you'll teach me all you know about everything?" "Why not let your Hearn teach you of Japan? He knows it all. He would tell you, too, that Benten is also Goddess of the Sea," he pointed to the brilliant spot of color at the end of the avenue, now made spectacular by the radiance of the setting sun. "He would understand why, under this influence, I could not keep from telling you my secret; for 'is not the sea most ancient and most excellent of speakers,--the eternal poet, chanter of that mystic hymn whose rhythm shakes the world, whose mighty syllables no man may learn?'" "Oh, Monty," she murmured, nestling closer to him in blissful happiness, "please go on. To hear you talk is just like listening to a beautiful symphony. And to think you're going to share it all with me! Let us stay right here forever!" "Mer-ry!" came Philip's call across the lawn. "Uncle Mon-ty!" Billy halloed. "There come those horrid boys," she pouted, sitting up straight. "Why are boys, anyway?" "You told me once that it was only when they became serious that you worried about them," he teased her. "They are serious now,--they've found out you're here, and they're going to talk war with you.--I don't want to give you up even for a moment!" "Nor I you," he whispered, as the boys were close at hand; "but we must keep our secret a little longer." They rose and walked up the avenue to meet them. "Mother said to wait because you were tired, but Billy couldn't, so I came with him," Philip explained lamely. "I am never too tired to receive a welcome like this--" "We want your advice," Billy interrupted. "Won't it wait until we get to the house?" "No," Billy insisted; "it's urgent. Phil and I want to go to the war, and if we don't hurry they may call it off and then we'll be rooked." "I wish there was a chance they might," Huntington said feelingly. "There's no fear of that, boy. They are in for a long and terrible struggle." "Great!" cried Philip. "I've always wanted to go to war, and I never believed there would be another." "I'm going because I want to get shot up just to spite Merry," added Billy, remembering his grievance and looking at the girl gloomily. "The fact that you realize so little what you are saying is the greatest argument you could advance in favor of your going," Huntington said, looking at them gravely. "I didn't mean to speak as I did," Philip replied apologetically. "It is a terrible thing, of course, but since it has come I am crazy to be a part of it. I believe I'll run away if Mother and Dad don't let me go!" "I meant just what I said," Billy insisted stoutly. "Merry is very unhappy,--haven't you noticed it?"