"What a lover!" she said; and pride in him and in her own womanhood was in her voice.
"Look at that, Dede." He removed one encircling arm and swept it in a wide gesture over the valley and the mountains beyond. "The Valley of the Moon—a good name, a good name. Do you know, when I look out over it all, and think of you and of all it means, it kind of makes me ache in the throat, and I have things in my heart I can't find the words to say, and I have a feeling that I can almost understand Browning and those other high-flying poet-fellows. Look at Hood Mountain there, just where the sun's striking. It was down in that crease that we found the spring."
"And that was the night you didn't milk the cows till ten o'clock," she laughed. "And if you keep me here much longer, supper won't be any earlier than it was that night."
Both arose from the bench, and Daylight caught up the milk-pail from the nail by the door. He paused a moment longer to look out over the valley.
"It's sure grand," he said.
"It's sure grand," she echoed, laughing joyously at him and with him and herself and all the world, as she passed in through the door.
And Daylight, like the old man he once had met, himself went down the hill through the fires of sunset with a milk pail on his arm.