would not walk down Plausaby street--at least not so far as Mrs.
Ferret's house. There could be no possible harm in his going half-way
there. Love is always going half-way, and then splitting the difference
on the remainder. Isa, on her part, remembered a little errand she must
attend to at the store. She felt that, after a day of excitement, she
needed the air, though indeed she did not want to meet Charlton any more,
if he had made up his mind not to see her. And so they walked right up to
one another, as lovers do when they have firmly resolved to keep apart.

"Good-evening, Isabel," said Albert. He had not called her Isabel before.
It was a sort of involuntary freedom which he allowed himself--this was
to be the very last interview.

"Good-evening--Albert." Isa could not refuse to treat him with
sisterly freedom--now that she was going to bid him adieu forever. "You
were going away without so much as saying good-by."

"One doesn't like to be the cause of unpleasant remarks about one's best
friend," said Charlton.

"But what if your best friend doesn't care a fig for anybody's remarks,"
said Isabel energetically.

"How?" asked Albert. It was a senseless interrogatory, but Isa's words
almost took his breath.

Isa was startled at having said so much, and only replied indistinctly
that it didn't matter what people said.

"Yes, but you don't know how long such things might cleave to you. Ten
years hence it might be said that you had been the friend of a man who
was--in--the penitentiary." Charlton presented objections for the sake of
having them refuted.

"And I wouldn't care any more ten years hence than I do now. Were you
going to our house? Shall I walk back with you?"

"I don't know." Charlton felt his good resolutions departing. "I started
out because I wanted to see the lake where Katy was drowned before I go
away. I am ever so glad that I met you, if I do not compromise you. I
would rather spend this evening in your company than in any other way in
the world--" Albert hadn't meant to say so much, but he couldn't
recall it when it was uttered--"but I feel that I should be selfish to
bring reproach on you for my own enjoyment."

"All right, then," said Isa, laughing, "I'll take the responsibility. I
am going to the lake with you if you don't object."

"You are the bravest woman in the world," said Albert with effusion.

"You forget how brave a man you have shown yourself."

I am afraid this strain of