ho broke
the silence, speaking his pedestrian's apology again. And this time, so
swift and straight had they come, Cally replied, with quite a
natural laugh:

"Never mind.... Here I am."

She halted before the white-stone steps of home, and glanced
involuntarily toward the windows. Independent though she felt since day
before yesterday, she would not have cared to have mamma glance out
just then....

"I _hadn't_ realized that we were here already!"

"Oh, it isn't far, as you see.... But it was good of you to bring me."

It was a parting speech; but Cally said it with no inflection of
finality. So, at least, it seemed to be considered. V. Vivian stood
drawing O's with his stick on the flagging belonging to Mr. Heth, of the
Works. He took some pains to make them exactly round.

"I hope," said he, "that your--your annoyance over this matter won't
interfere with your interest in the Settlement. I hope you still think
of--of helping in the work."

"Oh!... I don't know," replied Cally, having thought but little about
this since Hugo's reentrance into her life. "Mr. Pond, you see,
convinced me pretty well of my uselessness--"

"It's only his manner!--he's always so mortally afraid that people
aren't in earnest. I'm certain he could find--ah--suitable and congenial
work, if you--you cared to give him another chance. And I'm certain
you'd like him, when you knew him a little better."

"You like him?"

"I put him above any man I know, except only Mr. Dayne."

The tall electric light four doors below, which so irritated the Heths
when they sat on their flowered balcony on summer nights, shone now full
upon the old family enemy. It was observed that he wore, with his new
blue suit, a quaint sprigged waistcoat which looked as if it also might
have come down from his Uncle Armistead, along with the money he had
given away. The old-fashioned vestment seemed to go well with the young
man's face....

Cally stood upon the bottom step of the House, and drew her hand along
the rail. It had occurred to her to tell him that she would probably go
away to live; but now she only said, half-absently:

"I might think about it, and let you know later."

And then, as he accepted her tone as dismissal, and his hand started
toward his hat, she spoke impulsively and hurriedly:

"Tell me, is it your feeling that this matter--the Works--makes it
necessary for us to--to go on quarreling?"

The two stood looking at each other. And in