See, Aunt Agatha, see the spring moon--the 'Planting Moon' an Indian girl I used to know in college called it! How gloriously it must be shining over silent woods and lakes, flashing silver on the pines and the ripples by the shore.

And the sea, the great, wide, beautiful, mysterious sea droning under a million stars!" "Think of that!" breathed Aunt Agatha incredulously.

"A million stars! I can't believe it.

But dear me, Diane, there are seas and stars and moons and things right here in New York." With a swift flash of tenderness Diane slipped her arm about Aunt Agatha's perturbed shoulders.
"You're not going to mind at all!" she wheedled gently.

"I'm sure of it.