“I have been thinking of those 'two in the Garden,'” mused Paul, resting his dark, abstracted eyes on her. “Whether or no your humble servant has a claim to unchallenged bliss in this world, there's no doubt about your claim. If my plans interfere, I must take myself out of the way.” “Oh, you funny old croaker!” laughed the girl. “Take yourself out of the way, indeed! Haven't you chosen me to show you the way?” “Moya, Moya!” said Paul in a smothered voice. “I know what you are thinking. But stop it!” she held one of her crushed blossoms to his lips. “What was this made for? Why hasn't it some work to do? Isn't it a skulker--blooming here for only a night?” “'Ripen, fall, and cease!'” Paul murmured. “How much more am I--are you, then? The sum of us may amount to something, if we mind our own business and keep step with each other, and finish one thing before we begin the next. I will not be in a hurry about being good. Goodness can take care of itself. What you need is to be happy! And it's my first duty to make you so.” “God knows what bliss it would be.” “Don't say 'would be.'” “God knows it is!” “Then hush and be thankful!” There was a long hush. They heard the far, faint notes of a bugle sounding from the Post. “Lights out,” said Moya. “We must go.” “You haven't told me yet where our Garden is to be,” he said. “I will tell you on the way home.” When they had come down into the neighborhood of ranches, and Bisuka's lights were twinkling below them, she asked: “Who lives now in the grandfather's house on the Hudson?” “The farmer, Chauncey Dunlop.” “Is there any other house on the place?” “Yes. Mother built a new one on the Ridge some years ago.” “What sort of a house is it?” “It was called a good house once; but now it's rather everything it shouldn't be. It was one of the few rash things mother ever did; build a house for her children while they were children. Now she will not change it. She says we shall build for ourselves, how and where we please. Stone Ridge is her shop. Of course, if Chrissy liked it--But Chrissy considers it a 'hole.' Mother goes up there and indulges in secret orgies of economy; one man in the stable, one in the garden--'Economy has its pleasures for all healthy minds.'” “Economy is as delicious as bread and butter after too much candy. I should love to go up to Stone Ridge and wear out my old clothes. Did any one tell me that place would some day be yours?” “It will be my wife's on the day we are married.” “That is where your wife, sir, would like to live.” “It is a stony Garden, dear! The summer people have their places nearer the river. Our land lies back, with no view but hills. For one who has the world before her where to choose, it strikes me she has picked out a very humble Paradise.”