me
had I been a little happier there with him this year than last; and he
said he hoped I had.

And I told him, of course, I had; that it had been perfectly beautiful
there, even if there had been such a mix-up of him getting ready for
Marie, and Mother sending Mary. And he laughed and looked queer--sort
of half glad and half sorry; and said he shouldn't worry about that.
Then the train came, and we got on and rode down to the junction. And
there, while we were waiting for the other train, he told me how sorry
he was to have me go.

He said I would never know how he missed me after I went last year. He
said you never knew how you missed things--and people--till they were
gone. And I wondered if, by the way he said it, he wasn't thinking
of Mother more than he was of me, and of her going long ago. And he
looked so sort of sad and sorry and noble and handsome, sitting there
beside me, that suddenly I 'most wanted to cry. And I told him I _did_
love him, I loved him dearly, and I had loved to be with him this
summer, and that I'd stay his whole six months with him next year if
he wanted me to.

He shook his head at that; but he did look happy and pleased, and said
I'd never know how glad he was that I'd said that, and that he should
prize it very highly--the love of his little daughter. He said you
never knew how to prize love, either, till you'd lost it; and he said
he'd learned his lesson, and learned it well. I knew then, of course,
that he was thinking of Mother and the long ago. And I felt so sorry
for him.

"But I'll stay--I'll stay the whole six months next year!" I cried
again.

But again he shook his head.

"No, no, my dear; I thank you, and I'd love to have you; but it is
much better for you that you stay in Boston through the school year,
and I want you to do it. It'll just make the three months I do have
you all the dearer, because of the long nine months that I do not,"
he went on very cheerfully and briskly; "and don't look so solemn and
long-faced. You're not to blame--for this wretched situation."

The train came then, and he put me on board, and he kissed me
again--but I was expecting it this time, of course. Then I whizzed
off, and he was left standing all alone on the platform. And I felt
so sorry for him; and all the way down to Boston I kept thinking of
him--what he said, and how he looked, and how fine and splendid and
any-woman-would-be-proud-of-him he was as he stood on the platform
wavin