The parlor¹ at The Cedars² was very different from that in the Craig cottage. It was pretty and comfortable, with lamps that diffused³ a cheerful, mellow⁴ glow over the lower half of the room and left the upper in pleasantly mysterious gloom. There was much old-fashioned furniture—such as the spindle-legged card table at which Miss Mullett and the Doctor were deeply absorbed in cribbage—but enough comfortable modern chairs had been provided to render martyrdom unnecessary. The four windows were hung with bright creton and muslin, and the dull-green carpet neither stared one out of countenance⁵ nor made one fearful to set foot upon it. It was a jolly, chummy sort of carpet that seemed to say, "Walk on me all you want to, and don't be afraid to spill your crumbs⁶; I like crumbs." A very large tortoise-shell cat lay stretched along the arm of the couch, half asleep, and purred as Eve dipped her fingers in the long fur. The windows on the side of the room were open and the draperies swayed gently with the little breeze. Wade⁷, seated at the other end of the couch from his hostess, was feeling happy and inexplicably⁸ elated.  
"I feel quite guilty about this morning," Eve was saying. "I'm afraid I wasn't very polite. Did I—did I smile?"
 
"If you didn't, you were a saint," answered Wade. "It's a wonder to me you didn't howl!"
 
"It was funny, though, wasn't it? Now that it's all over, I mean; now that I've apologized and Carrie has apologized for me and you've apologized. You did look so—so utterly⁹ dumfounded!"
 
"I was!" replied Wade grimly. "For a moment I thought I'd had a sunstroke or something and was out of my head. At first, when I came in and saw you standing¹⁰ there, I thought—it was a foolish thing to think, of course—but I thought you had come to call on me!"
 
"Again?"
 
"Again? I'm afraid I don't—"
 
"Now let's be honest, Mr. Herrick. You did see me the—the first time, didn't you?"
 
"Just as you wish," laughed Wade. "I did or I didn't."
 
"You did. I wish you hadn't, but I know you did. I wonder what you thought of me!"
 
"I—there wasn't much chance to think anything," answered Wade evasively. "You didn't stay long enough."
 
"I was going by and saw the windows open and couldn't think what to make of it, you see," she explained. "The cottage has been closed up so long that it was quite breath-taking to see it open. My only idea was that it was being aired out. So I thought I'd take a peep. I wanted to see inside, for once I spent a whole day there with Aunt Mary, when I was just a little bit of a girl, and I wondered whether it would look the same. If you think you were surprised this morning when you came in and found me confronting you, what do you suppose I was when I looked in that window and right into your face? Don't you think we're quits now?"
 
"I reckon we are. Only you didn't make such an ass¹¹ of yourself as I did. You had presence of mind to get away. In fact you got away so quick I wasn't sure whether I'd seen you or just imagined you. If I hadn't found a lilac bloom on the ground out there I reckon I'd have been sort of worried about myself."
 
"Did I drop it?"
 
"You must have. You're fond of it, aren't you?" He nodded at the tiny spray tucked in the front of her white gown.
 
"Very. And I'm always sorry when it goes. This, I fear, is the very last. It was later this year than usual; last summer it was almost all gone when we got here."
 
"It's awfully¹² sweet," said Wade. "Driving into the village the other day the fragrance¹³ was almost the first thing that struck me. I reckon when I go back West my memory of Eden Village will be perfumed with lilac.
 
"That's very pretty," said Eve. "Coup-ling lilacs with the West reminds me of something that happened once when I was out there with papa."
 
Wade's glance wavered and shifted to the couple at the card table. She knew, after all, or suspected!
 
"It was quite a few years ago. Papa was interested in some mines in Nevada, and he took me out with him one spring on a business trip. Coming back we stopped one morning at a little town. I don't remember whether it was in Nevada or Colorado, and I've forgotten the funny, outlandish name it had. There were just a few houses and stores there. Papa and I got out of the Pullman and walked up and down the station platform. Just across the road was a little frame house and in front of it was a lilac bush just full of blooms. It seemed so strange to find such a thing out there, and the blossoms were so lovely that I called papa's attention to it. 'I do wish I could have some!' I said. There were some men standing about the station, great big rough-looking men, miners or ranchers, I suppose. One of them heard me and whipped off his hat. 'Do the flowers please you, ma'am?' he asked. He looked so kind of wild and ferocious¹⁴ that I was too startled to answer him at first, 'Cause if they do,' he went on, 'I'll get all you want.' 'Indeed they do,' I said, 'but they're not yours, are they?' 'No, ma'am, they're yourn,' he said. He pulled out a big knife, strode across to the bush and began cutting the poor thing all to pieces. 'Oh, please don't!' I cried. 'That's more than enough!' 'Just as you say, ma'am,' and he came back with a dozen great branches of them. I took them and thanked him. I told him it was dear of him to give them to me and I did hope he hadn't spoiled his bush. He—he—well, he emptied his mouth of a great deal of tobacco juice, wiped his big hand across it and said: 'It ain't my bush, ma'am, but you're just as welcome to them lilocks as if it was. There ain't nothin' in this town a pretty girl can't have for the askin'!' Thank goodness, the conductor cried 'All aboard' just then and I ran up the steps. There wasn't any reply I could have made to that, was there? As the train went off we could see the other men on the platform laughing and hitting my friend on the back, and enjoying it all greatly. But wasn't it dear of him?"
 
"Yes," answered Wade, warmly. "They're like that out there, though rough and uncultured, maybe, but kind and big-hearted underneath¹⁵. I dare say that incident made him feel so good that he went out and shot a Greaser."
 
"Oh, I hope not!" laughed Eve. "But he looked as though he might have shot dozens of them, one every morning for breakfast! The flowers lasted me all the way to Chicago. The porter put them in the ice-water tank and I picked fresh lilacs every day."
 
Wade wondered whether she had forgotten another incident, which must have happened on the evening of that same day. He hoped she had, and then he hoped she hadn't. If she recalled it she made no mention of it, nor did the smiling unconsciousness of her face suggest that she connected him with her trip in the remotest degree. He felt a little bit aggrieved¹⁶. It wasn't flattering to be forgotten so completely.
 
"You said your father was interested in some mines in Nevada. Do you mind telling me the name?"
 
"The New Century Consolidated¹⁷, they were called."
 
"Oh, that was too bad," exclaimed Wade, regretfully. "That property never was any good. The whole thing was a swindle from first to last. Was your father very badly hit?"
 
"Ruined," answered Eve, simply. "He had to sell everything he had. They had made him a director, you see, and when the exposure came he paid up his share. The lawyer said he didn't have to, but he insisted. He was right, don't you think, Mr. Herrick?"
 
"No—well, perhaps. I don't know. It depends how you look at it, I reckon."
 
"There was only one way to look at it, wasn't there? Either it was right or it was wrong. Father believed it was right."
 
"So it was! But plenty of men would have hidden behind the law. I wish your father might have bought into our property instead of the New Century. I wanted Ed to write to him; we needed money badly at first, and I'd heard Ed speak of him once; but he wouldn't do it; said his uncle wouldn't have anything to do with any schemes of his."
 
"I'm afraid he was right," said Eve, sadly. "When I was a little girl my father and Ed's father had some sort of a misunderstanding and would never have anything to do with each other afterwards. It made it very hard for mamma, for she and Aunt Mary were very fond of each other. Please tell me about Cousin Edward, Mr. Herrick. I think I only saw him once or twice in my life, but he was my cousin just the same, and now that he's dead I suddenly realize that all the time I was unconsciously taking a sort of comfort out of the knowledge that somewhere I had some one that belonged to me, even if I never saw him and hardly knew him. What was he like?"
 
"A big, silent, good-hearted fellow. I think there was a resemblance to you, Miss Walton. He was dark complexioned¹⁸, with almost black eyes, but—there's something in your expression at times—that reminds me of Ed." Wade frowned and studied the girl's face. "But I have a photograph of him at the Camp. I'll send for it. Shall I?"
 
"It wouldn't be too much trouble?"
 
"No trouble at all. I'll just send a wire to Whitehead, the superintendent¹⁹. I met Ed in a queer way. It was at Cripple Creek²⁰. I'd been there almost a year. After my mother died there wasn't anything to keep me at home in Virginia, and there wasn't much money. So I hiked out to Colorado, thinking about all I'd have to do was to cinch up my belt and start to pick up gold nuggets in the streets. The best I could find was work with a shovel²¹ in one of the mines over Victor way. Then I got work in another mine handling explosives. I got in front of a missed hole one fine day and was blown down a slope with about a hundred tons of rock on top of me. As luck had it, however, the big ones wedged over me and I wasn't hurt much, just scratched up a bit."
 
"But that was wonderful!" breathed Eve.
 
"Yes, it was sort of funny. I was covered up from one in the afternoon until five, quite conscious all the time and pretty well scared. You see, I couldn't help wondering just what would happen if the rocks should settle. My eyes got the worst of it and I had to stay in the hospital about a month. But I'm afraid I'm boring you. I was just leading up to my meeting with Ed."
 
"Boring me! Don't be absurd! Then what happened?"
 
"Well, after I got out of the hospital I bought a burro and a tent and hiked out for the Sangre—for the southern part of the State. I still had some money coming to me for work when the trouble happened, and after I got out I cashed an accident policy I'd luckily taken out a month before. I stayed in the mountains pretty much all summer prospecting²³. I found the biggest bunch of rock I'd ever seen, but no yellow iron—I mean gold. Came sort of near starving before I got out. I sold my outfit²⁴ and went back to Cripple and struck another job with the shovel and pick, digging prospect²² ditches. It was pretty tiresome²⁵ work and pretty cold, too. So when I'd got a month's wages I told the boss he'd either have to put me underground or I'd quit. I said I was a miner and not a Dago. You see, I felt independently rich with a month's wages in my jeans—pockets, that is. The boss said I could quit. I've been wondering ever since," laughed Wade, "whether I quit or was fired."
 
"That was lovely," said Eve. "Oh, dear, I've often wished I'd been a man!"
 
"H'm; well, every one to his taste. But look here, Miss Walton, you're certain I'm not boring you to death?"
 
"Quite. What did you do with all that money? And how much did a month's wages amount to?"
 
"About ninety dollars. You get three a day and work seven days a week. But, of course, I owed a good deal of that ninety by the time I got it. Well, I paid my bills and then did a fool thing. I got my laundry out of the Chinaman's, put on a stiff shirt and went over to Colorado Springs. It just seemed that I had to have a glimpse of—well, you know; respectability—dress clothes—music—flowers. I remember how stiff and uncomfortabl............