n using the name of any
young woman in writing to a gentleman, but Mrs. Forsythe had not been
born in Ashurst.

However, Dick still lingered, and Lois rejoiced, and even her
anticipation of the evil time to come, when he should arrive and end her
peaceful days, could not check her present contentment. It was almost
May, and that subtile, inexplainable joy of the springtime made it a
gladness even to be alive. Lois rambled about, hunting for the first
green spears of that great army of flowers which would soon storm the
garden, and carrying any treasure she might find to Mrs. Forsythe's
sick-room. The meadows were spongy with small springs, bubbling up under
the faintly green grass. The daffadown-dillies showed bursting yellow
buds, and the pallid, frightened-looking violets brought all their
mystery of unfolding life to the girl's happy eyes.

One Saturday morning, while she was looking for the bunch of grape
hyacinths which came up each year, beside the stone bench, she was
especially light-hearted. Word had come from Helen that the long-promised
visit should be made the first week in June. "It can only be for a week,
you know," Helen wrote, "because I cannot be away from John longer than
that, and I must be back for our first anniversary, too."

More than this, Mrs. Forsythe had sighed, and told her that poor dear
Dick's business seemed to detain him; it was such a shame! And perhaps he
could not get to Ashurst for a fortnight. So Lois Howe was a very happy
and contented girl, standing under the soft blue of the April sky, and
watching her flock of white pigeons wheeling and circling about the gable
of the red barn, while the little stream, which had gained a stronger
voice since the spring rains, babbled vociferously at her side. The long,
transparent stems of the flowers broke crisply between her fingers, as
she heard her name called.

Mr. Denner, with his fishing-basket slung under one arm and his rod
across his shoulder, was regarding her through a gap in the hedge.

"A lovely day!" said the little gentleman, his brown eyes twinkling with
a pleasant smile.

"Indeed it is, sir," Lois answered; "and look at the flowers I've found!"

She tipped the basket of scented grass on her arm that he might see them.
Mr. Denner had stopped to ask if Mrs. Forsythe would be present at the
whist party that night, and was rather relieved to learn that she was not
able to come; he had lost his hand the week before, because sh