"But the compensations--" began Orde vaguely.

"Compensations?" she cried. "What do you mean? Here are the woods
and fields, the river, the lake, the birds, and the breezes. We'll
check them off against the theatre and balls. Books can be had here
as well as anywhere. As to people: in a large city you meet a great
many, and they're all busy, and unless you make an especial and
particular effort--which you're not likely to--you'll see them only
casually and once in a great while. In a small place you know fewer
people; but you know them intimately." She broke off with a half-
laugh. "I'm from New York," she stated humorously, "and you've
magicked me into an eloquent defense of Podunk!" She laughed up at
Orde quite frankly. "Giant Strides!" she challenged suddenly. She
turned off the edge of the sand-hill, and began to plunge down its
slope, leaning far back, her arms extended, increasing as much as
possible the length of each step. Orde followed at full speed.
When the bottom was reached, he steadied her to a halt. She shook
herself, straightened her hat, and wound the veil around it. Her
whole aspect seemed to have changed with the descent into the
conventionality of the village street. The old, gentle though
capable and self-contained reserve had returned. She moved beside
Orde with dignity.

"I came down with Jane and Mrs. Hubbard to see Mr. Hubbard off on
the boat for Milwaukee last night," she told him. "Of course we had
to wait over Sunday. Mrs. Hubbard and Jane had to see some relative
or other; but I preferred to take a walk."

"Where are you staying?" asked Orde.