ollegemates. I am reconciled to the
loss of the years that the locust has eaten," said her companion, with a
world of meaning in those wonderful eyes of his.

The rain came steadily down for the best part of an hour. But the time
seemed really very short. When the clouds parted and a burst of pale
November sunshine fell athwart the harbor and the pines Anne and her
companion walked home together. By the time they had reached the gate of
Patty's Place he had asked permission to call, and had received it. Anne
went in with cheeks of flame and her heart beating to her fingertips.
Rusty, who climbed into her lap and tried to kiss her, found a very
absent welcome. Anne, with her soul full of romantic thrills, had no
attention to spare just then for a crop-eared pussy cat.

That evening a parcel was left at Patty's Place for Miss Shirley. It was
a box containing a dozen magnificent roses. Phil pounced impertinently
on the card that fell from it, read the name and the poetical quotation
written on the back.

"Royal Gardner!" she exclaimed. "Why, Anne, I didn't know you were
acquainted with Roy Gardner!"

"I met him in the park this afternoon in the rain," explained Anne
hurriedly. "My umbrella turned inside out and he came to my rescue with
his."

"Oh!" Phil peered curiously at Anne. "And is that exceedingly
commonplace incident any reason why he should send us longstemmed roses
by the dozen, with a very sentimental rhyme? Or why we should blush
divinest rosy-red when we look at his card? Anne, thy face betrayeth
thee."

"Don't talk nonsense, Phil. Do you know Mr. Gardner?"

"I've met his two sisters, and I know of him. So does everybody
worthwhile in Kingsport. The Gardners are among the richest, bluest,
of Bluenoses. Roy is adorably handsome and clever. Two years ago his
mother's health failed and he had to leave college and go abroad with
her--his father is dead. He must have been greatly disappointed to have
to give up his class, but they say he was perfectly sweet about it.
Fee--fi--fo--fum, Anne. I smell romance. Almost do I envy you, but not
quite. After all, Roy Gardner isn't Jonas."

"You goose!" said Anne loftily. But she lay long awake that night, nor
did she wish for sleep. Her waking fancies were more alluring than any
vision of dreamland. Had the real Prince come at last? Recalling those
glorious dark eyes which had gazed so deeply into her own, Anne was very
strongly inclined to think he had.