"Genie of the Ring," said Meg, gaily, "come back! I forbid you to give me anything stronger than tea. I shall have tea and bread-and-butter and jam." "What kind of jam?" asked Dan, laughing. "I like strawberry best." "Good! I can provide you with that. We will have afternoon-tea, Meg, after the fashion of high society." But no society tea could have been as pleasant as that meal in the open air beside the wood fire. The dell was filled with golden sunshine, and the blue sky arched itself like a hollow sapphire over the green trees. A gentle wind whispered through the leaves, and the drowsy voice of the distant sea boomed like the solemn notes of an organ. Singing birds were in the pine wood, swallows darted through the sky, and bees and grasshoppers and humming wasps made the dell vocal with murmurous sound. Dan counted that day as one of the most perfect of his life; one to be marked with a white stone. Meg was hungry, and not afraid of displaying her appetite. She made the tea with the assistance of Dan, and cut a pile of bread-and-butter, which in conjunction with the strawberry jam vanished like snow before them. It was a happy meal, for during its progress host and guest jested and laughed as though they had known each other all their lives. When the meal was ended Dan lighted his pipe and threw himself at Meg's feet as she sat on the log. He looked up into her wonderful eyes and began to feel that he was falling in love with this child of nature. But she, yet fancy-free, smiled innocently at his ardent gaze, and, overflowing with life and happiness, burst into song. "I was a maid of Arcady, And you a shepherd, brown and merry; We danced together o'er the lea, And plucked the rose and leaf and berry; For life was gay and sweet and free Within the vales of Arcady. "But, ah! those days are over, dear, And you and I are sadly parted; No longer make we merry cheer, But wander lonely, broken hearted; For life is sad and dark to me, So far from happy Arcady. "Yet, if the gods are kind, perchance Again will come the golden weather, And hand in hand we'll gaily dance With love across the purple heather. Ah, joy, how happy shall we be When once again in Arcady." "Many thanks for so charming a song," murmured Dan, when she ended; "but why lament what is not? You are still in Arcady, remember." "And you?" "I have been away, but have returned. This is the golden weather, yonder is the purple heather, and you and I are together."