the fields were golden-tipped with mustard-flower, while a haze as golden touched and glinted the green of the encircling hills. a riot of vernal glory met jim's eyes as he walked through the lanes that led to the towers.

six months had passed since diana and hal had left him, and until now the west with its memories had held him. he had written that he would be with them on this day, but he wished to return quietly. only diana and the child knew of his expected arrival.

the soft summer heat had brought into blossom every wild flower in glen and roadway; the great trees seemed heavy with the fragrant breezes that wafted through their leaves. as he had gone from home, so he wished to return to it—alone. a tumult of emotions battled within him as he approached the entrance to the towers. he found the heavy doors opened wide as though expectant of a visitor. as he stood on the threshold the clock of the church-tower struck twelve. it was noon—the high noon of his life.

from the hall he heard a voice cry, "welcome home, daddy!"

he turned to see his boy, changed even during the short separation—but stronger, more beautiful, a veritable princeling—holding out his eager little arms. and his boy, standing alone in the great hallway of the home of their ancestors, welcomed jim to his own. as he held the child close to him, his eyes searched for diana, and as the boy rained kisses on his face, jim said:

"cousin di—where is she?"

the child smiled, and, slipping down to the ground, took hold of his father's hand and started to draw him down the corridor that led to the garden.

"cousin di is waiting for you in the fairies' corner," said the child. "we go there to play, you know, and listen for the fairies."

jim did not speak, but the child prattled on as he led him across the green grass, past the swaying, flaunting hollyhocks and the beds of old-fashioned, fragrant flowers that lined the walks. the songs of birds filled the air—linnet, lark, and thrush seemed carolling a welcome to him. but jim hardly heard what the boy said. he could see only the waving tree-tops of the mysterious corner in the distance.

"cousin di!" the child called, as he ran ahead to herald his father's coming.

beyond, the path and garden were bathed in strong sunlight; the heavens were full of drifting azure clouds. over all was the dazzling, bewildering glory of the noonday splendor, and before jim stood diana, a gracious figure, at the entrance to the enchanted spot. on her face a tender love answered all that his eyes asked. behind her he could see deep into the fairies' corner; in there all was peaceful; only golden cobwebs of sunlight dappled the leaves and scattered the enshrouding gloom.

neither jim nor diana spoke. the boy's attention was claimed by a vivacious wag-tail that chirruped at his feet, then fluttered away to be pursued by him. once he turned to smile back a reassurance of his joy at his father's return, but he could not see him.

diana and jim had entered the fairies' corner, and this time they heard the flutter of wings—the wings of their love as it enfolded them in its peace and holy joy.