"I can't--I won't
believe it!"
"Don't be a goose!" begged the girl happily. "All winter the voice of
the open country has been calling--calling! There's quicksilver in my
veins. See, Aunt Agatha, see the spring moon--the 'Planting Moon' an
Indian girl I used to know in college called it! How gloriously it
must be shining over silent woods and lakes, flashing silver on the
pines and the ripples by the shore. And the sea, the great, wide,
beautiful, mysterious sea droning under a million stars!"
"Think of that!" breathed Aunt Agatha incredulously. "A million stars!
I can't believe it. But dear me, Diane, there are seas and stars and
moons and things right here in New York."
With a swift flash of tenderness Diane slipped her arm about Aunt
Agatha's perturbed shoulders.
"You're not going to mind at all!" she wheedled gently. "I'm sure of
it. I'd have to go anyway. It's in my blood like the hint of summer
in the air to-night."
Aunt Agatha merely stared. The Westfalls were congenital enigmas.
"A gypsy cart!" she gurgled presently, rising phoenix-like at last from
a dumb-struck supineness. "A gypsy cart! Well! A wheelbarrow
wouldn't have surprised me more, Diane, a wheelbarrow with a motor!"
"Don't you remember Mrs.
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