“Here’s to my having more sense in all the years to come,” said Rae, waving her cup of cocoa.

“To our having more sense,” corrected Pat.

“It’s lovely to be home again,” sighed Rae. “I had a splendid time at Guelph…and I really did learn lots…much more than just nature study. The social side was all right, too. There were some nice boys. We had a gorgeous trip to Niagara. But I am half inclined to agree with you that there is no place like Silver Bush. It must do something to people who live in it. Those darling cats! I really haven’t seen a decent cat since I left the Island, Pat…no cat who looked as if he really enjoyed being a cat, you know. I wish we could do some crazy thing to celebrate. Sleep out in the moonlight or something like that. But it’s too Marchy. So we must just have a good pi-jaw. Tell me everything that has happened since I went away. Your letters were so…so charitable. There was no kick in them. Let me tell you once for all, Pat, that a person who always speaks well of every one is a most uninteresting correspondent. I’m sure you must be boiling over with gossip. Have there been any nice juicy scandals? Who has been born…married…engaged? Not you, I hope. Pat, don’t go and get married to David. He’s far too old for you, darling…he really is.”

“Don’t be silly, sweetheart. I just want David as a friend.”

“The darlints,” said Judy happily, as she went downstairs. “I was knowing the good ould Gardiner sinse wud come out on top.”

It was wonderful to be too happy to sleep. The very sky through the window looked glad. And when Pat wakened a verse she had heard David read a few days before…a verse which had hurt her at the time but now seemed like a friend…came to her mind.

“Whoever wakens on a day,

Happy to know and be.

To enjoy the air, to love his kind.

To labor and be free,

Already his enraptured soul

Lives in Eternity.”

She repeated the lines to herself as she stood by her window. Rae slipped out of bed and joined her. Judy was crossing the yard, carrying something for the comfort of her hens.

“Pat,” said Rae a bit soberly, “does it ever strike you that Judy is growing old?”

“Don’t!” Pat winced. “I don’t want to think of anything to spoil this happy morning.”

But she did know that Judy was growing old, shut her eyes to it as she might. And hadn’t Judy said to her rather solemnly one day,

“Patsy darlint, there do be a nightdress wid a croshay yoke all riddy in the top right hand till av me blue chist if I iver tuk ill suddent-like.”