y it?
Moreover--now, surely this was an inspiration--why shouldn't she kill
two birds with one stone, and work in her inquiry about the other
young lady with this plain thought that was on her tongue to speak?

The sun was a sheer blaze of golden light as they stepped out of the
little church into its farewell efforts on behalf of the hill-shadowed
land of premature sunsets, and the merpussy looked her best in its
effulgence. Sally's good looks had never been such as to convince her
she was a beauty; and we suppose she wasn't, critically speaking. But
youth and health, and an arrow-straight bearing, and a flawless
complexion, in a flood of evening light, make a bold bid for beauty
even in the eyes of others than young men already half-imbecile with
love. Sally's was, at any rate, enough to dumbfounder the little
janitress with the key, who stood at gaze with violet eyes in her
sunbrowned face in the shadow, looking as though for certain they
would never close again; while, as for Dr. Conrad, he was too far gone
to want a finishing touch, and if he had been, the faintest animation
of an extra flush due to embarrassment at what she was meaning to say
would have done the business for him. What could he do but wonder and
idolize, even while he almost flinched before his idol; and wait to
know what it was she wished he wouldn't? What was there in earth or
heaven he would not, if Sally wished it?

"Dr. Conrad, I'm sure you must know what I mean. I do so hate being
called 'Miss Sally.' Do make it 'Sally,' and have done with it."

The breezy freshness of her spontaneous ease was infectious, and the
shy man's answering laugh showed how it had caught his soul. "Is that
all?" says he. "That's soon done--Sally! You know, I _do_ call you
Sally when I speak to your mother and...."

"Now, _do_ say father. You've no idea how I like it when people call
Jeremiah my father, instead of step."

"Well--father, then. I mean, _they_ said call you Sally; so of
course I do. But speaking to you--don't you see?..." The doctor
hesitates--doesn't actually blush, perhaps. A slight pause in the
conversation eases off the context. The little maiden has to lock up
the church-door with the big key, and to receive sixpence and a kiss
from Sally. The violet eyes follow the lady and gentleman, fixed in
wonderment, as they move off towards the hill, and the last glint of
the sun vanishes. Then Sally goes on where they left off:

"No, I don't see. Spea