Once more with Jesse in Cathedral Grove! The breath of evening stirred its tangled coral, the long needles clustered in globes were swaying as censors sway, with heavy incense. Beyond the purple night swept up over glowing cliffs to where the upper forest like an edge of flame burned against deeps of sky.

"Come to the hilltop: blackbird choristers
Peal their clear anthem to the kneeling gorse."

Jesse lay dreaming while I sang to him. Crisp silvered hair, and the deeply graven lines of his dear face, gave him at rest a sweet sad dignity; but presently he would look up, his big mouth humorous, his eyes alight with fun, a man of commanding power matured in wisdom, in sympathy, and valor to lead his fellows.

Through the east window of the grove, I could see a little procession of my closest friends pass on their Sunday stroll. First came Pete, ill at ease in his Sabbath suit of blacks, and with him, arm in arm, was Mrs. Pete in silk, full-skirted, prickly, and so very grim. Then Billy passed slowly by, his mother stumping beside him, bound to keep the pace. They had the new rabbit with them, collared and chained like a bulldog, and were followed by David's nurse, dear Patsy, Billy's wife—plucking my young anemones—the wretch!

Out on the perilous edge of Apex Rock I could see young Mr. Nisted, Father Jared's nephew, a pupil in Jesse's school of colonial training. With rod and line he was seriously fishing—for birds!

"Don't you reckon," said Jesse, relighting a stale cigar, "that it's time we stopped our book?"

"Oh, but—"

"It's tempting Providence, young woman; it's encouraging the police. From the moment you started the thing, we've had more'n our share of adventures. Put up a notice, 'Book Closed. No more adventurers need apply. Try Surly Brown for a change.'"

"But what shall we do?"

"Publish the blamed thing, and serves it right. Throw it to the critics."

"But it's all secrets!"

"Change the names and places. We'll be 'Mr. and Mrs. Smith,' well-meaning private persons located somewhere west. I'm going to have blue eyes."

"But mine are blue."

"I made first grab. You can have green, and a large mouth, and your Christian name is Carrots. Hello, here's Baby David."

My son was coming through the scented dusk, and in his arms he carried a large dog, a china dog with gilt muzzle, split from nose to tail, but carefully mended.

"Sonny," said Jesse, "don't you drop Maria, or she'll have puppies."

"I did, and she didn't; so there! Something dropped out, though. See, mummie."

David had thrown Maria into my lap, and danced about in the gloaming with some strange trophy, the tail of a large animal.

"Sort of reminds me," said Jesse, "of being a little boy. That's the Inspector's tale. This is a long way, too, from the Labrador."

The wind made quite a disturbance, telling the pines to hush, while both my son and Jesse wanted to play with the wolf tail, and would not be quiet, though already the stars and the fireflies had lighted Cathedral Grove, and the great river like an organ crooned the first deep notes of nature's even-song. An awed expectant silence came to us.

"Lighten our darkness," said the grave old trees, "we beseech Thee."

"By Thy great mercy," pleaded the little flowers.

"Defend us from all perils," the small birds twittered.

"And dangers of the night," the aspens quavered.

"For the love of Thy only Son," cried the South Wind.

"Our Saviour Jesus Christ," a woman's voice responded.

"Amen," the cliffs were breathing.

"Amen," the high clouds echoed.

"Amen," said the organ river.

And from the reverent woodlands came:

"Amen. Amen."