"'Let us go then, you and I' – to see the house I've bought for us," quoth Shirley one afternoon, a week before the wedding, holding out his hand to Una, who had been sitting and dreaming in the manse garden. In his excitement he quite forgot to look loving – he only looked like jolly Shirley of the days before. It was quite like the old times, and Una was suddenly excited, too. She longed to see the place she would live – her house – the house she'd so often dreamed of!

"'Let us go and make our visit,'" she quoted back with a smile, and hand in hand they went.

It was a lovable afternoon. Summer had decided to come back for a day, and so it was balmy and warm, with just a hint of Autumn's coolness waiting around the edges. A wind from the east made the waves in the harbour put on cheerful white-caps. Things seemed to be growing instead of dying. There were little clusters of wild mums here and there, edging the red road like a border of stars.

They walked a long way, almost to Four Winds. But Una did not notice. She was chatting with Shirley – pestering him with questions about her house, their house – but he would not give her a hint. "You'll see soon enough." Finally they stopped at an old, wrought iron gate – an amazing, charming little gate – with the words 'Red Apple Farm' worked as a motto into it. A long lane went down between green fields on either side. Through a copse of still-leafy trees, Una could see a darling cedar-shingled roof and her heart quickened.

"I've never noticed this place before," she marveled, and Shirley smiled his old, friendly smile.

"Nor had I – it's unnoticeable unless you want to notice it. And it's so far away from the main road. We will be left quite to ourselves here, Una. With just the apple trees and the sea for neighbors. Will you mind that?"

"Oh, I won't mind at all!" said Una, thinking of the thousand prying eyes and questions of the last week. "Red Apple Farm – are there apple trees about the place, Shirley?"

"A whole orchard of them, in the back – we'll walk there and explore it – but first let's see the house!" They ran together down the lane, quite like the children they had once been, together.

The house was everything Una could have hoped it would be. Dear from the first instant she saw it. White clapboard below that shingled roof. A broad, sandstone porch with a white rail. Bright, cheerful red shutters, with window boxes of geraniums still blooming steadily. The windows were old fashioned and opened outwards. A vine of morning glories grew around the door.

"Shall we go in?" – and Una nodded eagerly. Shirley took the big brass key from his pocket and fitted it into the door, and opened it. Then he took Una's hand companionably and let her over the threshold and into her house.

Gleaming pine floors – a skylight in the hallway. Everything was airy and the light that came through was golden. There was a parlor and a dining room. A china cabinet to hold the apple-blossom plates that had been promised to Una by her long-dead mother. The furniture was theirs, Shirley explained, left by the house's previous owner. Una was glad. It seemed to go with the house. A pile of driftwood was already laid in the fireplace for when they came to stay. There was a clock on the mantelpiece that marked the changing of the tides with bells, and a gilt-edged mirror behind that which reflected their happy, expectant faces. Window seats galore – one under every window.

"Let's see the rest," whispered Shirley – somehow this was a moment of reverence and they had to whisper.

The kitchen in back ran the length of the house, with all the cupboards and cabinets any self-respecting Christian woman could wish for. A dear little pantry – and a jam-closet! A tiny bedroom off of that that must have once been the servant's quarters. From the kitchen window they could see the bay, blue and unwavering, beyond the fields sloping down to it. A cooking fireplace took up the whole west wall, and in the sandstone over it was worked,

A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness—
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

Una had always loved that old verse. She ran her fingers over it and her eyes shone.

Upstairs were three more bedrooms. One in the back was especially dear. It had a bay-view from three of its windows and the other looked east onto the apple-orchard. A bed with a funny, carved headboard took up most of the room and a desk and chair and wash-stand took up the rest. There was another, little fireplace with a brass grate.

"How would you like this for your room, dear?" Shirley asked. Oh, he understood! What a dear, understanding friend he was! Una nodded, eyes shining. She could dream in this room.

"This house has always been loved," Una remarked as she walked all over it once again. "Who lived here before us, Shirley?"

"Not sure," said he. "It has been vacant a long while. Isn't that funny, Una? It's not musty or dusty a bit – it seems like its old inhabitants have merely stepped out. The house is still waiting for them to come back. Can't you smell the lavender and beeswax used to clean it? We'll always use lavender and beeswax to clean it, won't we? Speaking of lavender, you have your own herb garden in the back – done in the old-fashioned, English style. You'll like that, won't you?"

"Oh, yes!" Una breathed. "Let's go and see it now!"

They went down and out into their yard. The herb garden was as quaint and charming as Shirley had promised. There was a spruce-bush to the west, mysterious and gloomy. How green it would look against the snow when snows came! To the east stretched out two acres of apple-trees. Shirley spread his coat on the ground for Una to sit underneath one while he climbed up for apples. They were as red as the name of the farm promised, with a crisp, tangy, fresh taste. To eat one felt like waking up from a long nap.

They made a feast of apples from their own trees and sat together and talked as afternoon became evening.

"How much land do we have altogether?" asked Una, and her use of 'we' thrilled Shirley to his heart. But now was not the time to let her see that, and so he answered, quite casually,

"Eleven acres. Two for the orchard – one for the house and yard – and eight to farm."

"And is it good land?"

"Very good. Oh, it's hillier and sandier than one would like, of course, which is why the house was not sold for so long. But I think if one tends it carefully, and knows how to work it, he will make things grow abundantly from it. Do – do you think I can do it, Una?"

"Oh, I know you can!" she cried and her eyes flashed at him with pride.

Shirley put his arm around her waist and they sat back against the trunk of one of their own apple trees. They talked over the many plans they had for the place – at that moment little habits that would become traditions with time were born between them.

"We've inherited Susan's old cream cow," Shirley laughed, "And you'll make me her famous 'apple crunch pie' every week when our apples are in season, won't you?"

"Yes, I shall coddle you as much as she did," Una laughed.

The stars came out. They had a clear view of Venus rising over the tops of the trees – Orion seemed to be striding across the distant, lapping bay-waters. For the first time, a stranger could have taken them for lovers as they sat, still, in the old orchard. Shirley kept his arm around her waist, and Una, almost perfectly content, laid her shining, moonlit black head against his shoulder.

"I think," she said in a low voice, "That I could be happy here, Shirley." It was dark, so he could not see the little smile on her face – and she could not see the hopeful look that came over his at her words.