and waxed sentimental. Nan lay among
her cushions and listened in sympathetic silence. Undeniably Jerry knew
how to make music, and he also knew when to stop--a priceless gift in
Nan's estimation.

When the moon rose at last out of the summer haze, he had laid his
instrument aside and was lying with his head on his arms and his
face to the rising glory. They watched it dumbly in the silence of
goodfellowship, till at last it topped the willows and shone in a broad,
silver streak across the lake right up to the prow of the boat.

After a long time Jerry turned his dark head.

"I say, Nan!" he said, almost in a whisper.

"Yes?" she murmured back, her eyes still full of the splendour. The boy
raised himself a little.

"Do you remember that day ever so long ago when we played at being
sweethearts on this very identical spot?" he asked her softly.

She turned her eyes to his with a doubtful, questioning look.

"We weren't in earnest, Jerry," she reminded him.

He jerked one shoulder with a sharp, impatient gesture, highly
characteristic of him.

"I know we weren't. I shan't dream of being in earnest in that way for
another ten--perhaps twenty--years. But there's no harm in making
believe, is there, just now and then? I liked that game awfully, and
so did you. You know you did."

Nan did not attempt to deny it. She sat up instead with her hands clasped
round her knees and laughed like an elf.

Her wedding-ring caught the moonlight, and the boy leaned forward with a
frown.

"Take that thing off, won't you, just for to-night? I hate to think you're
married. You're not, you know. We're in fairyland, and married people
never go there. The fairies will turn you out if they see it."

Very gently he inserted one finger between her clasped ones and began to
draw the emblem off.

Nan made no resistance whatever. She only sat and laughed. She was in her
gayest, most inconsequent mood. Some magic of the moonlight was in her
veins that night.

"There!" said Jerry triumphantly. "Now you are safe. Jove! Did you hear
that water-sprite gurgling under the boat? It must be ripping to be a
water-sprite. Can't you see them, Nan, whisking about down there in
couples along the stones? Give me your hand, and we'll dive under and
join them."

But Nan's enthusiasm would not stretch to this. She fully understood his
mood, but she would only sit in the moonlight and laugh, till presently
Jerry, infected by her merriment, began to