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 “Why, I think I would,” answered Margaret, catching his mood and smiling back at him. “I can imagine no reason as to why I shouldn’t. I think I’d tell you if I knew; but honestly and truly, Jamie, I haven’t the faintest notion who would compose the very artistic combination you’ve been describing so enthusiastically. Have you made friends with any of the neighbours?”

“You know I haven’t!” said Jamie. “There aren’t any neighbours on the west. Neighbours are something to acquire in the future, and you are my neighbour on the east, and beyond you I haven’t penetrated. Straight down, of course, there are hundreds of people daily on the beach, but aside from more blue, this garden probably looks like every other garden running down to the sea. It’s had no visitors so far as I know. The truth is, Margaret, that there’s something about the house to-day that puzzles me. The bouquet in my bedroom was one thing. The Bee Master’s chair pulled to the hearth-side with the slippers I’ve been wearing before it—— While we are on the subject, did you do that?”

“No,” said Margaret Cameron, “I didn’t. I’ve felt that the Bee Master’s chair was something sacred and devoted to him and I’ve respected the fineness of your nature that kept you from appropriating it. I’ve got to bring myself to the place where I don’t mind seeing some other man using it. Frankly, I’d rather see you use it than any other man I know, but I couldn’t see you sitting in it just at this minute without resenting it.”

“I thought you’d have that feeling,” said Jamie. “I