calls which I simply cannot ignore. I'll not insist on
an answer tonight, but will you write me?"

The girl put out her hand which Harry grasped. Her lips quivered and she
breathed, "Yes."

He lifted the hand to his lips, but the girl drew it from him, whispered
"goodby" and darted away. He stood watching her until she disappeared.
Patience hurrying toward the cottage was roused from her tumult of
emotion by the sound of voices. Once she heard the words "eight o'clock,"
without recognizing the speaker. When they were spoken again she knew the
voice as that of Martin Druce. She disliked Druce. The thought of his
being alone with Elsie chilled her.

She came toward him swiftly but in silence. Her question: "What did you
say was going to happen at eight o'clock, Mr. Druce?" was a complete
surprise.

"Eh--why--" stammered Druce, off his guard.

"Why Patience, how late you are," interrupted Elsie to conceal Druce's
confusion.

"Just a little, dear," replied Patience, now confused herself. "I have
been busy at the store." Then she turned to Druce again. "What is it
about eight o'clock--is it something concerning Elsie?" she persisted.

"O, I was just saying that I had to meet a man at the hotel at eight,"
returned Druce, full of assurance again.

"Ah!" said Patience, "well, you'll catch him all right--if you start
now."

Druce laughed. "Here's your hat--what's your hurry, eh?"

"Patience, how can you?" demanded Elsie.

"I didn't mean to be rude," retorted Patience serenely, "only I wouldn't
have him miss that man."

"Oh, I can take a hint." Druce started for the gate. As he reached it he
turned back to the two girls and added:

"I sure hope that man keeps his appointment to meet me at eight o'clock."

CHAPTER VII

HARRY BOLAND HEARS FROM HIS FATHER

Harry Boland strode away from his interview with Patience deeply occupied
with tumultuous reflections, not seeing the beauties of Millville which,
but a short time before, he had been enthusiastically celebrating. He
was, in fact, a young man walking in a dream. Every word the girl had
uttered, every inflection of her voice, the involuntary confession of
affection won from her by his own no less sudden avowal of love,
projected themselves against his excited mind with all the vividness of
kinetoscope pictures. He was very happy with these reflections that come
to the youth in love when a familiar voice