other."

"I think so," returned Polly, softly.

"I want to see that young man of yours, up inland. I want to tell him
that he is mighty lucky because he met you first."

"Why?"

"I can't tell you just why. It isn't right for me to do so."

"But a girl likes to hear such things. Please!"

"Will you forgive me for saying what I shouldn't say?"

"I will forgive you."

"He's lucky, because if I didn't know you were promised and in love,
I'd go down at your feet and beg you to marry me. You're the wife for
a Yankee sailor, Polly Candage. If only there were two of you in this
world, we'd have a double wedding."

He leaped up and started away.

"Where are you going?" she asked, and there was almost a wail in her
tones. "No, he does not understand girls well," she told herself,
bitterly.

"I'm going down to Rowley's store to see if he will take his money back
and let us save interest. He told me I'd have to keep the money for a
year."

She called to him falteringly, but with such appeal in her tones that he
halted and stared at her.

"Couldn't you--Isn't it just as well to let the matter rest
until--till--"

"Oh, there's no time like the present in money matters," he declared,
with a laugh, wholly oblivious, not in the least understanding her
embarrassment, her piteous effort to bar her little temple of love's
sacrifice so that he could not trample in just then.

His laugh was a forced one. He realized that if he did not hurry away
from this girl he would be reaching out his arms to her, declaring the
love that surged in him, now that he had awakened to full consciousness
of that love; his Yankee reticence, his instinct of honor between men,
were fighting hard against his passion; he told himself that he would
not betray a man he did not know, nor proffer love to a girl who, so he
believed, loved another.

"May I not go with you?" she pleaded, restraining her wild impulse to
run ahead of him and warn the deacon.

"Of course!" he consented, and they walked down the street, neither
daring to speak.

They found Rowley alone in his store. He was puttering around, making
ready to close the place for the night.

As they entered, the girl stepped behind Mayo and, catching the deacon's
eye, made frantic gestures. In the half gloom those gestures were
decidedly incomprehensible; the deacon lowered his spectacles and stared
at her, trying to understand this wigwagging.

"I'd like to take up that loan and save