nderness and longing. The
qualities her nature lacked he supplied, and love and faith like his
were not lightly to be put aside. Fred in the dusk before her took form
in her mind as a refuge and hope. He was big and strong and kind; he
loved her and it was sweet to be loved by him. He took her hands, that
fluttered and became still like two forlorn birds; and then her arms
stole round his neck in a tight clasp.

"Dear Fred!" she cried, half-sobbing; "don't you ever leave me!"

* * * * *

A little later, as they walked hand in hand toward the house, he pointed
toward the creek.

"You see, Phil, about your work, I've thought all that out. I want you
to go on with it. I've planned a kind of studio for you over there, in
that clump of trees on the edge of the Run. I'm going to build a little
bungalow, all glass on the creek side, where you can study and write,
while I'm off making the corn grow. And in the evenings we'll go out
there and sit and talk. I've thought a lot about that."

"But, you goose, that won't be helping you any, the way a farmer's wife
has to help her husband. I won't be of any use to you, writing pieces
for editors to fire back at me."

"They won't send them back; and if they do, I'll punch their heads."

"And daddy can live with us, can't he--always, Fred? Where we are will
be home for him!"

"Yes; of course, Phil. I've thought about that, too. I've thought about
almost everything. And I'm not afraid of life, Phil,--not with you. Out
here in the fields it's different from anywhere else, and easier. Those
old stars are closer, some way, here in the country. You've got more
room to think in, and it isn't a narrow life, but a broad one when you
consider it. You've taught me to understand all that, Phil! I believe
you feel a good deal about it as I do, and the work you want to do ought
to be better for being done out here where the corn grows tall. We won't
stay here always. We'll go off in the winters and look at the big world,
and come back home to study it over. And we'll try to do a little good
as we go along."

"Yes; we mustn't forget that, Fred."

His simple way of speaking of things that meant much to him had always
touched her. Her pressure tightened on his hand and he bent and kissed
her.

"But, Fred!" she exclaimed suddenly, as they loitered on, "Amy will be
awfully cross. We'd planned to go abroad next summer, and he won't
forgive me if I get married s