“What matter?”

“The foreclosure.”

“I don’t know; how can I know until I see Guilford?”

“But you need the hatchery——”

“I know it.”

“But he won’t let you discuss it——”

“If,” said Wayne angrily, “you had spent half the time talking business with the poet that you spent picking strawberries with his helpless children I should not now be lugging this suit-case up this mountain. Decency requires few observations from you just now.”

“Pooh!” said Briggs. “Wait till you see Iole.”

“Why Iole? Why not Vanessa?”

“Don’t—that’s all,” retorted Briggs, reddening.