in love,' said I, very awkwardly.

'Is that all?' she answered, a trace of humour in her tone. 'I thought
it was bad news.'

I stooped to pick a rose and handed it to her.

'Well,' she remarked soberly, but smiling a little, as she lifted the
rose to her lips, 'is it anyone I know?'

I felt it was going badly with me, but caught a sudden inspiration.

'You have never seen her,' I said.

If she had suspected the truth I had turned the tables on her, and now
she was guessing. A quick change came into her face, and, for a moment,
it gave me confidence.

'Is she pretty?' she asked very seriously as she dropped the flower and
looked down crushing it beneath her foot.

'She is very beautiful--it is you I love, Hope.'

A flood of colour came into her cheeks then, as she stood a moment
looking down at the flower in silence.

'I shall keep your secret,' she said tenderly, and hesitating as she
spoke, 'and when you are through college--and you are older--and I
am older--and you love me as you do now--I hope--I shall love you,
too--as--I do now.'

Her lips were trembling as she gave me that sweet assurance--dearer to
me--far dearer than all else I remember of that golden time--and tears
were coursing down her cheeks. For myself I was in a worse plight of
emotion. I dare say she remembered also the look of my face in that
moment.

'Do not speak of it again,' she said, as we walked away together on the
shorn sod of the orchard meadow, now sown with apple blossoms, 'until we
are older, and, if you never speak again, I shall know you--you do not
love me any longer.'

The dinner horn sounded. We turned and walked slowly back

'Do I look all right?' she asked, turning her face to me and smiling
sweetly.

'All right,' I said. 'Nobody would know that anyone loved you--except
for your beauty and that one tear track on your cheek.'

She wiped it away as she laughed.

'Mother knows anyway,' she said, 'and she has given me good advice.
Wait!' she added, stopping and turning to me. 'Your eyes are wet!'

I felt for my handkerchief.

'Take mine,' she said.

Elder Whitmarsh was at the house and they were all sitting down to
dinner as we came in.

'Hello!' said Uncle Eb. 'Here's a good-lookin' couple. We've got a
chicken pie an' a Baptis' minister fer dinner an' both good. Take yer
pew nex' t' the minister,' he added as he held the chair for me.

Then we all bowed our heads and I felt a hearty amen for the elder's
wo