I hastily ran over the contour of the country we had passed through, and saw that indeed the spring must be its headwaters. "I'm so glad!" she cried. "Why?" I asked. She darted a look at me, with twinkling eyes. "I shan't tell you," she said. I got a trowel, and we planted the withered trilliums in partial shade between the maples and the pines, and gave them water. Then I showed her the newly sown lawn, and we peeped in to see the Hiroshiges over the twin fires. "Now, home and to bed for you," I cried. "I know you've done too much." "I know I've had a wonderful time," she answered soberly. "I've--I've--it's hard to explain--but I've somehow connected up this house with the wild country about it. Do you understand? If I had a house in the country, I should want it where I could get out, this way, on a Sunday afternoon into the woods and bring home trilliums. It wouldn't seem right, complete, if I couldn't. I'd want my own dear garden, and then a great big, God's garden over the fence somewhere." "That is how I feel, too," said I. "Only I want, also, to connect up my place with my neighbours; I want myself to be a part of the human environment. I thought of that this morning, as I saw the folks going by to church. If I ever get Twin Fires done, I'm going to join the Grange!" "But Twin Fires comes first, doesn't it? I fear I've been selfish to drag you off to-day." "Drag me off is good!" I laughed. "You poor little city-bred, you, as if your enjoyment hadn't given me the happiest day of my life! Only I'm afraid you did too much." "I _am_ pretty tired," she admitted, with a happy smile. "But I wouldn't have missed it for the world." I was pretty tired myself, but I did a remarkably good evening's work, nevertheless, only pausing before the start to wonder why it was she wept one night when she wasn't tired, and smiled the next when she had tramped ten miles. But a man cannot afford to ponder such problems in feminine psychology too closely if he has anything else to do! Chapter XI ACTÆON AND DIANA Memorial Day dawned fair and warm. Bert and his wife and all their "help" went off to the village after breakfast. There were no painters in my house, and Mike had milked the cows and gone home before I arrived. Miss Goodwin and I seemed to have that little section of Bentford quite to ourselves, after the last of the carryalls had rattled past, taking the veterans from Slab City to the town. Having no flag yet of my own, I borrowed one from Bert, and we hung it from a second-story window, facing the road, as our tiny contribution to the sentiment of the day. Then we tackled the rose trellis, speedily completing it, for only two arches remained to be built, one of the carpenters having built three for me the day before, while waiting for some shingles to come for the barn. Indeed, we had it done by ten o'clock. "Now what?" said she.