er horse and started away on another
journey to Sukey Yates. This time, however, she went somewhat out of her
way, riding up the river path through the forest to Dic Bright's home.
When she reached the barnyard gate Dic was hitching the horses to the
"big wagon." He came at Rita's call, overjoyed at the sight of her. He
knew she had come to ask forgiveness. For many months past he had tried
not to see that she was unkind to him, but her words on the porch had
convinced him, and he saw that her coldness had been intentional. Of
course he did not know the cause of her altered demeanor, and had
regretfully put it down to an altered sentiment on her part. But when he
saw her at the barnyard gate, he was again in the dark as to her motive.

When Dic came up to her she handed him the letter over the gate,
saying: "Read it alone. Let no one see it."

Dic had only time to say, "Thank you," when the girl struck her horse
and galloped down the forest path, bound for Sukey. When she had passed
out of sight among the trees, Dic went down the river to a secluded
spot, known as "The Stepoff," where he could read the letter without
fear of detection. He had long suspected that his love for the girl was
not altogether brotherly, and his recent trouble with her had
crystallized that suspicion into certainty. But he saw nothing back of
the letter but friendship and contrition. The girl's love was so great a
treasure that he dared not even hope for it, and was more than satisfied
with the Platonic affection so plainly set forth in her epistle. We who
have looked into Rita's heart know of a thing or two that does not
resemble Platonism; but the girl herself did not fully know what she
felt, and Dic was sure she could not, under any circumstances, feel as
he did. His mistake grew partly out of his lack of knowledge that
woman's flesh and blood is of exactly the same quality that covers the
bones and flows in the veins of man, and--well, Rita was Rita, and, in
Dic's opinion, no other human being was ever of the quality of her
flesh, or cast in the mould of her nature. The letter told him that he
still held her warm, tender love as a friend. He was thankful for that,
and would neither ask nor expect anything more.

If upon Rita's former visit to Sukey she had been too sad to enjoy the
vivacious little maiden, upon this occasion she was too happy. She sat
listening patiently to her chat, without hearing much of it, until Sukey
said:--

"Di