for a moment, but Williams
easily loosened her tongue and she went off like a magpie. Billy used to
say that Sukey was the modern incarnation of the ancient and immortal
"Chatterbox."

After Sukey's arrival, Rita could be alone, and an hour passed before
she returned to the house.

That evening Billy Little took supper with Mrs. Bays, and Rita,
considering Williams her father's guest, spent most of the evening on
the sycamore log with the bachelor heart.

"Dic gave me the ring again," she said, holding out her hand for
inspection. Billy took the hand and held it while he said:--

"It's pretty there--pretty, pretty."

"Yes," she responded, looking at the back of her hand, "it's very
pretty. It was good of you--but you need not be frightened; I'm not
going to thank you. Where do you suppose he is at this moment?"

"I don't know," answered Billy. "I suppose he's between Pittsburg and
New York."

"I had a letter from him at Pittsburg two weeks ago," said Rita; "but I
have heard nothing since. His work must be very hard. He has no time to
think of me."

"He probably finds a moment now and then for that purpose," laughed
Billy.

"Oh, I don't mean that he doesn't think of me! Of course he does that
all the time. I mean that he must have little time for writing."

"You must feel very sure of him when you say he thinks of you all the
time. How often have you thought of him since he left?" asked Billy.

"Once," replied the girl, smiling and blushing.

"Do you mean all the time?" queried Billy.

She nodded her head. "Yes, all the time. Oh, Billy Little, you won't
mind if I tell you about it, will you? I must speak--and there is no one
else."

"What is it you want to say, Rita?" he asked softly.

"I hardly know--perhaps it is the great change that has taken place
within me since the night of Scott's social and the afternoon I shot
Doug Hill. I seem to be hundreds of years older. I must have been a
child before that night."

"You are a child now, Rita."

"Oh, no," she replied, "trouble matures one."

"But you are not in trouble?"

"N-o--" she answered hesitatingly, "but--but this is what I want to say.
Tell me, Billy Little, do you think anything can come between Dic and
me? That is the thought that haunts me all the time and makes me
unhappy."

"Do you feel sure of Dic?" asked Billy.

"Indeed, I do," she replied; "I am as sure of him as I am of myself."

"How about that fellow in there?" asked Billy, p