our own account, I beg you to refrain. Promise
me not to tell him until you have seen Miss Vanhorn."

"Very well; I promise that," said Anne.

"Good-by, then. The rain is over, and he will be going. I will not show
myself until I see you drive away. What good fortune that my horse was
tied out of sight! Must you carry all those things, basket, tin case,
and all? Why not let me try to smuggle some of them home on horseback?
You would rather not? I submit. There, your hat has fallen off; I will
tie it on."

"But the strings do not belong there," said Anne, laughing merrily as he
knotted the two blue ribbons with great strength (as a man always ties a
ribbon) under her chin.

"Never mind; they look charming."

"And my cuffs?"

"You can not have them; I shall keep them as souvenirs. And now--have
you had a pleasant day, Anne?"

"Very," replied the girl, frankly.

They shook hands in farewell, and then she went down the ladder, her
shawl, plant case, and basket on her arm. Heathcote remained in the
cave. When she had reached the ground, and was turning to descend the
hill, a low voice above said, "Anne."

She glanced up; Heathcote was lying on the floor of the cave with his
eyes looking over the edge. "Shake hands," he said, cautiously
stretching down an arm.

"But I did."

"Once more."

She put down her shawl, plant case, and basket, and, climbing one round
of the ladder, extended her hand; their finger-tips touched.

"Thanks," said the voice above, and the head was withdrawn.

Dexter, after doing what he could to make the buggy dry, was on the
point of driving away, when he saw a figure coming toward him, and
recognized Anne. He jumped lightly out over the wheel (he could be light
on occasion), and came to meet her. It was as they had thought; he had
met Miss Vanhorn, and learning where Anne was, had received permission
to take her home.

"I shall not be disappointed after all," he said, his white teeth
gleaming as he smiled, and his gray eyes resting upon her with cordial
pleasure. He certainly was a fine-looking man. But--too large for a mill
window. Fortunately mill windows are not standards of comparison.

"It has been raining a long time; where did you find shelter?" he asked,
as the spirited horses, fretted by standing, started down the moist
brown road at a swift pace.

"In a little cave in the hill-side above us," answered Anne, conscious
that at that very moment Heathcote was probably watchi