ned the little gate, placed her hand on Leopold's arm and
they walked on up the Cliff Road.

As Quincy entered the little parlor, Alice sprang toward him with a cry
of joy. He caught her in his arms, and this time one kiss did not
suffice, for a dozen were pressed on hair and brow and cheek and lips.

"It is so long since you went away," said Alice.

"Only one short week," replied Quincy.

"Short! Those six days have seemed longer than all the time we were
together at Eastborough. I cannot let you go away from me again," she
cried.

"Stay with Me, My Darling, Stay," sang Quincy, in a low voice, and Alice
tried to hide her blushing face upon his shoulder.

Then they sat down and talked the matter over. "I must leave you," said
Quincy, "and only see you occasionally, and then usually in the presence
of others, unless--"

"Unless what?" cried Alice, and a sort of frightened look came into her
face.

"Unless you marry me at once," said Quincy. "I don't mean this minute;
say Wednesday of this coming week. I have a license with me I got in
Boston yesterday morning. We'll be married quietly in this little room,
in which you first told me that you loved me. We could be married in a
big church in Boston, with bridesmaids, and groomsmen, and music on a
big organ. We could make as big a day of it as they did down to
Eastborough."

"Oh, no!" said Alice; "I couldn't go through that. I cannot see well
enough, and I might make some terrible blunder. I might trip and fall,
and then I should be so nervous and ashamed."

"I will not ask you to go through such an ordeal, my dearest. I know
that we could have all these grand things, and for that reason, if for
no better one, I'm perfectly willing to go without them. No, Alice, we
will be married here in this room. We will deck it with flowers,"
continued Quincy. "Leopold will go to Boston to-morrow and get them.
Rosamond's Bower was not sweeter nor more lovely than we will make this
little room. I will get an old clergyman; I don't like young ones;
Leopold shall be my best man and Rosa shall be your bridesmaid. Mrs.
Gibson and her brother, who I see is still here, shall be our witnesses,
and we will have Tommy and Dolly for ushers."

Both laughed aloud in their childish glee at the picture that Quincy
had painted. "I could ask for nothing better," said Alice; "the ceremony
will be modest, artistic, and idyllic."

"And economical, too," Quincy added with a laugh.

And so it