on, Mr. Crosby, and show it to me."
"Dorothy," interposed Justin Arnold, "stay where you are. Do you suppose I will let you go walking with another man?"
"Do you suppose," retorted Dorothy, "that I will ask your permission, if I choose to go?"
The lovely, laughing face was so merry that it took away all petulant spirit from the question, and Dorothy's dark eyes flashed with fun as she slowly went toward Crosby.
"If you want to see any part of the grounds of White Birches, I will escort you myself," went on Arnold.
"Oh, come, now, Justin," said Crosby, "don't begrudge me a little stroll with your girl. I'll bring her back safely."
"Let her go, Justin," dictated Cousin Abby. "She'll enjoy a walk with Campbell, and goodness knows she'll see enough of you all the rest of her life! It's only a few weeks to the wedding day, and after that she can't go gadding about with young men. Run along, Dorothy, and flirt with Campbell all you've a mind to."
"Yes, do," said Crosby, but whether it was the too eager look in his eyes, or whether Dorothy suddenly decided to humor Justin, she refused to go.
"All right," said Crosby gayly; "but don't think I don't know why you refused. You just do it to pique me, and make me more crazy about you than ever!"
As all present were accustomed to Crosby's outspoken remarks, they paid little heed to this speech, but he murmured low in Dorothy's ear, "And that's really true, and you know it And you'll take that walk with me, see if you don't!"
"Hold there, Campbell!" cried Justin. "Stop whispering to my girl! I declare, old man, if you don't let her alone, you and I will have to revive the good old fashion of duelling!"
"Oh, I wish you would!" exclaimed Dorothy, clapping her hands. "Leila, wouldn't you just love to see a real live duel?"
"Yes, if they all stayed alive afterward. But I shouldn't want any fatal effects; they're so troublesome and unpleasant."
"Take me away, Mr. Crosby," cried Dorothy; "I won't stay where people talk of such awful subjects!"
"Come along, then, and we'll look up that deep, dank tarn."
Dorothy rose from the swaying swing seat, and cast a slightly apprehensive glance at Arnold. But he chanced to have his back turned and did not see her. So with a beckoning smile at Crosby, she ran down the steps and out on to the lawn. Gaily she ran across the wide greensward and, rounding a clump of blue spruce trees, was lost to view of those on the terrace.
Crosby, following, found her there on a stone garden seat.
"You'll catch it!" he said, looking down at the laughing face.
"Why?" innocently; "can't I stroll round my own grounds, if I like? At least, they soon will be mine."
"Do you covet them so much, then?"
"Covet isn't a pretty word. Of course, I love White Birches. Though I never would stay here in winter. And of course I should want to go away in summer. But Justin says I may do whatever I wish."
"What portion of the year, then, will you spend in this old place you love so well?"
Campbell Crosby was talking at random, merely for the pleasure of looking down into the lovely face and watching the dimples come and go as the red lips parted. And he had his wish, for a slow, sweet smile curved the scarlet mouth as Dorothy answered:
"Only red and gold days in October; golden days—like—this."
Her voice was low and almost caressing in its sweetness, her glance flashed to meet his, and then, with a divine blush, turned slowly away toward the fading sunset.
"Is this a golden day? Is it—now?"
The thrill went out of Dorothy's voice, the faint blush disappeared, but her dimples came into play, as, with a soft naturalness, she said, "Yes, indeed! Did you ever see one more so? The golden trees, the golden sunset, the very atmosphere is golden!"
"This hour is golden!" whispered Crosby; "you were good to give it to me!"
"I didn't give it to you! You stole it! Stole it from Justin, and he'll make you pay!"
"Suppose I make him pay? Pay ransom to get you back. I wonder at how much he'd value you."
"He wouldn't need to ransom me. I'd go back of my own accord."
"Not if I won't let you! Come, let us find the tarn, and then,—I don't know—I may throw you in."
"What is a tarn, really?" and Dorothy rose and walked with Crosby toward the ravines.
Only about an acre of White Birches was lawn. Once off that, the grounds became almost like woodland. There were brooks, tiny falls, hillocks, and sometimes deep undergrowth. Much had been made by clever landscape gardeners, but, wherever possible, the old natural beauties were there. Dorothy had seen little of it all. One brief, previous visit had shown her only the gardens and lawns near the house.
She said as much to Crosby, and he replied: "Then old Just will give it to me, for sure!"
"Let's go back," said Dorothy, frightened as they found themselves farther and farther from the house.
But Crosby walked slowly on, and answered her earlier remark.
"Don't you know what a tarn is? Don't you remember Tennyson's line, 'a glen, gray bowlder and black tarn'?"
"No, but it sounds like Hallowe'en! Is it?"
Crosby laughed out. "You kiddy! Is that what that line makes you think of? By Jove I wish it were Hallowe'en! Maybe I wouldn't try my fate with you!"
"You couldn't; my fate is settled. But I'm going to make Justin let me have a Hallowe'en party! Won't it be fun! Now, show me the tarn."
"That's it,—before you."
"Why, that's only a pool of water! Not clear water, at that."
"But that's all a tarn is,—a pool of water. But if it's deep and black and generally shuddery-looking, it can be called a tarn."
"Well, I don't think much of your old tarn. Come on, let's go back."
"I know why. Because the sun has almost set, and the air is cool and this place is gloomy, and so,—it makes you begin to think of how Justin will scold you!"
Crosby's voice was almost triumphant, and Dorothy looked at him in surprise.
"Why, one would think you were glad I'm to be scolded!"
"I am."
"You are! Why?"
"Because you are to be scolded for having run away with me. With me!" Crosby added, exultantly. "I'd be glad to have you often scolded for that!"
Dorothy turned and flashed her dark eyes at him. "Do you suppose for a minute that Justin will really scold me? Indeed, he won't! Nobody scolds me unless I choose to be scolded! If he tries; it, I shall smile at him. You can't scold a smiling person, can you?"
Apparently Justin Arnold couldn't, for within five minutes of the runaways' return, Dorothy was nestled into a cushioned settee, and her fiancé was striving to please her somewhat capricious appetite for "icy cakes,—the creamy-inside kind."
Chapter III.
May and December
"I wish I were three people!" exclaimed Leila Duane; "I want to walk and motor and play golf all at once."
It was after luncheon the next day, and the house-party congregated for a moment on the terrace, before breaking up into smaller groups. The air was full of that October warmth, so much more life-giving and blood-stirring than even the early days of spring.
"It's