Dick. I love the dear, determined old chap like a father. But
last night my guardian angel was with me and I decided to remain my
own man. So I wrote to Uncle Dick, respectfully but firmly declining
to become a candidate for Miss Mannering's hand."

"But you have never seen her," said Mollie. "She may
be--almost--charming."

"'If she be not fair to me, what care I how fair she be?'" quoted
Murray. "As you say, she may be--almost charming; but she is not Eve.
She is merely one of a million other women, as far as I am concerned.
Don't let's talk of her. Let us talk only of ourselves--there is
nothing else that is half so interesting."

"And will your uncle really cast you off?" asked Mollie.

"Not a doubt of it."

"What will you do?"

"Work, dear Eve. My carefully acquired laziness must be thrown to the
winds and I shall work. That is the rule outside of Eden. Don't worry.
I've painted pictures that have actually been sold. I'll make a living
for us somehow."

"Us?"

"Of course. You are engaged to me."

"I am not," said Mollie indignantly.

"Mollie! Mollie! After that kiss! Fie, fie!"

"You are very absurd," said Mollie, "But your absurdity has been
amusing. I have--yes, positively--I have enjoyed your Eden comedy. But
now you must not come any further with me. My aunt might not approve.
Here is my path to Orchard Knob farmhouse. There, I presume, is yours
to Sweetbriar Cottage. Good morning."

"I am coming over to see you this afternoon," said Murray coolly. "But
you needn't be afraid. I will not tell tales out of Eden. I will be a
hypocrite and pretend to Mrs. Palmer that we have never met before.
But you and I will know and remember. Now, you may go. I reserve to
myself the privilege of standing here and watching you out of sight."

* * * * *

That afternoon Murray strolled over to Orchard Knob, going into the
kitchen without knocking as was the habit in that free and easy world.
Mrs. Palmer was lying on the lounge with a pungent handkerchief bound
about her head, but keeping a vigilant eye on a very pretty, very
plump brown-eyed girl who was stirring a kettleful of cherry preserve
on the range.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Palmer," said Murray, wondering where Mollie
was. "I'm sorry to see that you look something like an invalid."

"I've a raging, ramping headache," said Mrs. Palmer solemnly. "I had
it all night and I'm good for nothing. Mollie, you'd better take them
ch