“Why, where are you going?” asked Juno.
“Never you mind,” said Doctor Jim.
Through the little vineyard they went, up a little hill underneath cedars and blooming rhododendrons, and there on the top was a little cabin built of logs with the bark still on them, with a porch running around all sides but one, and supported by the trunks of little trees. The smell of cedar came from the open door, and all was as fresh and clean as the breath of the forest from which everything came—a home that had been the girl's lifelong dream. The Goddess of Happy Valley had her own little temple at last.
On the open-air sleeping-porch they sat that night alone.
“I'm going to help raise some money for that Mission down there,” said Doctor Jim. “I don't know where any more good is being done, and I don't know any people who are more worth being helped than—your people.”
Happy Valley below was aswarm with fireflies. The murmur of the river over shallows rose to them. The cries of whippoorwills encircled them from the hillsides and over the mountain majestically rose the moon.
“And you and I are coming down every summer—to help.”
Juno gathered his hand in both her own and held it against her cheek.
“Jim—Doctor Jim—my Jim.”
The Battle-Prayer of Parson Small