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As she turned down a by-path she saw Will Carman, her American neighbor’s son, coming towards her, and by his side a young girl who seemed to belong to the sweet air and brightness of all the things around her. They were talking very earnestly and the eyes of the young man were on the girl’s face.

“Ah!” murmured Mrs. Spring Fragrance, after one swift glance. “It is love.”

She retreated behind a syringa bush, which completely screened her from view.

Up the winding path went the young couple.

“It is love,” repeated Mrs. Spring Fragrance, “and it is the ‘Inferior Woman.’”

She had heard about the Inferior Woman from the mother of Will Carman.

After tea that evening Mrs. Spring Fragrance stood musing at her front window. The sun hovered over the Olympic mountains like a great, golden red-bird with dark purple wings, its long tail of light trailing underneath in the waters of Puget Sound.

“How very beautiful!” exclaimed Mrs. Spring Fragrance; then she sighed.

“Why do you sigh?” asked Mr. Spring Fragrance.