Then when he came through the garden, one of the prettiest scenes in the world met his eye.
There was a large porch before the house, cool, roomy, and shady, overhung with jasmine and roses. The morning was very warm, and the day gave promise of being intensely hot. A white table had been placed in the porch, and on it stood a quantity of ripe, delicious fruit. Mrs. Brace and Mattie were busily engaged in preparing it for preserving; their fingers were stained crimson with the juice. Both faces looked up as Earle entered, and smiled, while Earle thought he had never seen a prettier picture than the sunlit garden with its gay flowers. The shady porch, the luxurious fruit, the kindly faces, yet he looked anxiously around. Without Doris it was like the world without the sun. The bright, beautiful face was sure to be smiling at him from the flower-wreathed windows, or from beneath the trees.
"You are looking for your love, Earle," said Mrs. Brace, in her kindly way. "She is a lazy love this morning. She is not down yet."
"I am glad she is resting," said Earle, too loyal to allow even the faintest suspicion of idleness.
Mrs. Brace laughed.
"Doris leads a life very much like the lilies in the field," she said. "She neither toils nor spins. Mattie shall call her if you like."
"No," said Earle. "I will wait until she comes."
Then Mattie joined in the conversation.
"Doris is tired this morning, Earle," she said, quietly. "She sat up quite late last night writing letters."
"Letters!" repeated Earle, with a touch of pardonable jealousy. "To whom was she writing, Mattie?"