Cathy was to arrive March twenty-first, by bus. She had firmly refused Marianne’s offer to drive her up. But although it might be the first day of spring even a hundred miles south in Boston, here in Willard the only sign of spring was the dangerous crust over soft snow—hard on the does heavy with fawn. Christina had gladly accepted Eben’s offer to drive her down to town in the jeep. One day she had skidded right off the road into a tree, and ever since, her knee had troubled her more than usual—she must have given it a twist in trying to right the car.

So by two when Eben drove up, and Christina, in a round fur hat and sheepskin coat and boots, went in to kiss Cornelius good-by, she was flushed with excitement.

“Oh, darling,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. Absurd to feel as though she were saying good-by. But it was good-by to their long, rich tête-à tête—there was no avoiding that. How peaceful they looked, Flicker lying on the rug by the fire and Cornelius with a book open on his knee. For a second she wished devoutly that Cathy were not coming. But then life swept her on as Eben blew the horn, to tell her to hurry, she supposed—yes, there was just time. Flicker ran out to the hall, wagging his tail and barking, “Let me go with you.”

“Not this time, old boy. You stay here with Cornelius,” she said firmly.

Eben, nervous and impatient, helped her up the high step into the jeep.

“You know this thing can’t go sixty miles an hour, Christina. We’re late!”

“So is the bus, no doubt,” she answered. “We are not going to hurry. We are going to enjoy ourselves.”

They had not been alone together for weeks, she realized, giving a quick look at Eben’s face, frowning as he concentrated on a slippery corner. And it was fun to be setting out on this expedition together.

“For once,” she said, “I have you all to myself.”

“‘The voice of the turtle is heard in the land,’” he said with his mischievous smile, his eyes on the road.

They heard a series of short excited barks to the left below the cemetery.

“Those damn dogs!” Eben said. “They’re after deer, I expect.”

“Can’t the town do anything about getting Mrs. Croswell to restrain them? I just don’t understand it. Nick is making himself ill again over this.”

“The selectmen are a bunch of cowards. They pay calls on that woman and she laughs in her sleeve. One of these days Nick will go out with his gun and that will be that! Good riddance!”

“It wouldn’t be the best way to solve anything—start another feud in the town. No, I hope he holds onto himself this time.”