ensive
person might have found Mrs. Fosdick's sudden interest in her daughter's
correspondence suspicious and a trifle alarming, but Albert never
dreamed of being alarmed.

He wrote many poems, all dealing with love and lovers, and sold some of
them. He wrote no more letters to Helen. She, too, had ceased to write
him, doubtless because of the lack of reply to her last two or three
letters. His conscience still troubled him about Helen; he could not
help feeling that his treatment of her had not been exactly honorable.
Yet what else under the circumstances could he do? From Mr. Kendall he
learned that she was coming home to spend Thanksgiving. He would see her
then. She would ask him questions? What should his answer be? He faced
the situation in anticipation many, many times, usually after he had
gone to bed at night, and lay awake through long torturing hours in
consequence.

But when at last Helen and he did meet, the day before Thanksgiving,
their meeting was not at all the dreadful ordeal he had feared. Her
greeting was as frank and cordial as it had always been, and there was
no reproach in her tone or manner. She did not even ask him why he had
stopped writing. It was he, himself, who referred to that subject,
and he did so as they walked together down the main road. Just why he
referred to it he could not probably have told. He was aware only that
he felt mean and contemptible and that he must offer some explanation.
His not having any to offer made the task rather difficult.

But she saved him the trouble. She interrupted one of his blundering,
stumbling sentences in the middle.

"Never mind, Albert," she said quietly. "You needn't explain. I think I
understand."

He stopped and stared at her. "You understand?" he repeated. "Why--why,
no, you don't. You can't."

"Yes, I can, or I think I can. You have changed your mind, that is all."

"Changed my mind?"

"Yes. Don't you remember I told you you would change your mind
about--well, about me? You were so sure you cared so very, very much for
me, you know. And I said you mustn't promise anything because I thought
you would change your mind. And you have. That is it, isn't it? You have
found some one else."

He gazed at her as if she were a witch who had performed a miracle.

"Why--why--well, by George!" he exclaimed. "Helen--how--how did you
know? Who told you?"

"No one told me. But I think I can even guess who it is you have found.
It is Madeline Fo