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"The earth was made so grand, dear,
  The heav'ns so far above,
That you might understand, dear,
  How wide and deep my love,
  How wide and deep my love."


When he had finished there was silence for a moment. Then Miles tapped the ashes from his pipe.

"To-morrow," he said, thoughtfully, "is the first of May."

"What about it?" asked the artist.

"Oh, I don't know. It seems rather wonderful, that's all."

"Wonderful!" grunted the other. "Why wonderful? Doesn't it usually come at about this time of year?"

"I dare say; but I never noticed it before."

"By the way, how did you get on with your painting to-day?" asked Hunter.

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