_Hills and Sea_ The summerhouse lay in a valley between two hills; resting on the lawn before it Ruth Tolliver lay with her head pillowed back between her hands, and the broad brim of her straw that flopped down to shade her eyes.

She could look up on either side to the sweep of grass, with the wind twinkling in it--grass that rolled smoothly up to the gentle blue sky beyond.

On the one hand it was very near to her, that film of blue, but to her right the narrow, bright heads of a young poplar grove pushed up beyond the hilltop, and that made the sky fall back an immeasurable distance.

Not very much variety in that landscape, but there was an infinite variety in the changes of the open-air silence.

Overtones, all of them--but what a range! If she found that what was immediately overhead and beside her was too bland, if she wearied of that lovely drift of clouds across the sky, then she had only to raise herself upon one elbow and look down to the broad, white band of the earth, and the startling blue of the ocean beyond.