be an opportunity for seeing and speaking
with Walter Fairchilds. But in this she was bitterly disappointed.

It was not until a week later, at the township Institute, which met at
New Canaan, and which was also attended by the entire population, that
her deep desire was gratified.

It was during the reading of an address, before the Institute, by Miss
Spooner, the teacher at East Donegal, that Fairchilds deliberately came
and sat by Tillie in the back of the school-room.

Tillie's heart beat fast, and she found herself doubting the reality of
his precious nearness after the long, dreary days of hungering for him.

She dared not speak to him while Miss Spooner held forth, and, indeed,
she feared even to look at him, lest curious eyes read in her face what
consciously she strove to conceal.

She realized his restless impatience under Miss Spooner's eloquence.

"It was a week back already, we had our Columbus Celebration," read
this educator of Lancaster County, genteelly curving the little finger
of each hand, as she held her address, which was esthetically tied with
blue ribbon. "It was an inspiring sight to see those one hundred
enthusiastic and paterotic children marching two by two, led by their
equally enthusiastic and paterotic teachers! Forming a semicircle in
the open air, the exercises were opened by a song, 'O my Country,' sung
by clear--r-r-ringing--childish voices...."

It was the last item on the program, and by mutual and silent consent,
Tillie and Fairchilds, at the first stir of the audience, slipped out
of the schoolhouse together. Tillie's father was in the audience, and
so was Absalom. But they had sat far forward, and Tillie hoped they had
not seen her go out with the teacher.

"Let us hurry over to the woods, where we can be alone and undisturbed,
and have a good talk!" proposed Fairchilds, his face showing the
pleasure he felt in the meeting.

After a few minutes' hurried walking, they were able to slacken their
pace and stroll leisurely through the bleak winter forest.

"Tillie, Tillie!" he said, "why won't you abandon this 'carnal' life
you are leading, be restored to the approbation of the brethren, and
come back to the hotel? I am very lonely without you."

Tillie could scarcely find her voice to answer, for the joy that filled
her at his words--a joy so full that she felt but a very faint pang at
his reference to the ban under which she suffered. She had thought his
failure to spea