"I am not," replied Thames; "but I insist upon your taking it back at once. Wood the carpenter. Lucy had baked the apple and pumpkin pies, carefully molding the flour crusts and adding extra teaspoonfuls of allspice and cinnamon while no one looked. Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet. But I can't consent to the course you would pursue—at least, not till I've given it due consideration. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. I gather you wish to go up in some fantastic get-up, wrapped about in your opera cloak, and that after the festivities you propose to stay with these friends of yours, and without any older people in your party, at an hotel.
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