As they started downward she sang from the "Persian Garden," and he blended his voice with hers: "Myself when young did eagerly frequent Doctor and Saint and heard great argument About it and about: but evermore Came out by the same door where in I went." "With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow, And with my own hand wrought to make it grow; And this was all the Harvest that I reaped--' I came like Water and like Wind I go.'" "I shall look forward to seeing you--and your mother and sister?--in New York," she said, when they parted, "and I am sure I shall have more to say when we're better known to each other." "If you were the one woman before, if the thought of you was more than the substance of any other to me,--you must know how it will be now, when the dream has come true. It's no small thing for your best dream to come true." "Dear me! haven't we been sentimental and philosophic? I'm never like this at home, I assure you. I've really been thoughtful." From up the canyon came the sound of a puffing locomotive that presently steamed by them with its three dingy little coaches, and, after a stop for water and the throwing of a switch, pushed back to connect with the Shepler car. The others of the party crowded out on to the rear platform as Percival helped Miss Milbrey up the steps. Uncle Peter had evidently been chatting with Shepler, for as they came out the old man was saying, "'Get action' is my motto. Do things. Don't fritter. Be something and be it good and hard. Get action early and often." Shepler nodded. "But men like us are apt to be unreasonable with the young. We expect them to have their own vigour and our wisdom, and the infirmities of neither." The good-byes were hastily said, and the little train rattled down the canyon. Miss Milbrey stood in the door of the car, and Percival watched her while the glistening rails that seemed to be pushing her away narrowed in perspective. She stood motionless and inscrutable to the last, but still looking steadily toward him--almost wistfully, it seemed to him once. "Well," he said cheerfully to Uncle Peter. "You know, son, I don't like to cuss, but except one or two of them folks I'd sooner live in the middle kittle of hell than in the place that turns 'em out. They rile me--that talk about 'people in the humbler walks of life.' Of course I _am_ humble, but then, son, if you come right down to it, as the feller said, I ain't so _damned_ humble!" CHAPTER IX. Three Letters, Private and Confidential From Mr. Percival Bines to Miss Psyche Bines, Montana City. On car at Skiplap, Tuesday Night. Dear Sis:--When you kept nagging me about "Who is the girl?" and I said you could search me, you wouldn't have it that way. But, honestly, until this morning I didn't know her myself. Now that I can put you next, here goes.