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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."
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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.
