"Never mind, let's bury those two children out here under the apple trees and begin real work——"
"Together."
"Finding the little things to do in our very own corner," added Nancy, dreamily.
Across the twilight stillness came the familiar whistle that had been the special signal among the three chums at college.
"It's the girls," cried Nancy. "Let's go back. I can't bear to have them come here—just now. It's—it's——" she blushed, but met his eyes squarely. "I want this to be—just ours—for awhile."
As they walked slowly back to the house, Nancy stopped suddenly in the path.
"Doesn't Happy House look beautiful?" she whispered. And in fact the fading glow of the sun was touching the old walls with a shadowy beauty.
"It seems to speak to one," added Nancy. She was thinking of that other Anne Leavitt who had come there bravely intent upon building a happy home in the heart of the wilderness. Though she said not a word, in her heart she was making a solemn pledge—that she and Barry, would add, through useful lives, their bit to the traditions of Happy House and the little Island, traditions rich with bravery, sacrifice and loyalty.
Again came the girls' whistle—insistent. Nancy slipped her hand into Barry's.
"Let's hurry."