ay, the 21st of December 1896, was leaving the
district for ever. On Sunday, the 20th of December, he came to bid us
good-bye and to arrive at an understanding with me concerning what I had
said to him the Sunday before. Grannie, strange to say, never suspected
that there was likely to be anything between us. Harold was so
undemonstrative, and had always come and gone as he liked at Caddagat:
she overlooked the possibility of his being a lover, and in our
intercourse allowed us almost the freedom of sister and brother or
cousins.

On this particular afternoon, after we had talked to grannie for a little
while, knowing that he wished to interview me, I suggested that he should
come up the orchard with me and get some gooseberries. Without demur from
anybody we set off, and were scarcely out of hearing before Harold asked
me had I really meant what I said.

"Certainly," I replied. "That is, if you really care for me, and think it
wise to choose me of all my sex."

Ere he put it in words I read his answer in the clear brown eyes bent
upon me.

"Syb, you know what I feel and would Eke, but I think it would be mean of
me to allow you to make such a sacrifice."

I knew I was not dealing with a booby, but with a sensible clear-sighted
man, and so studied to express myself in a way which would not for an
instant give him the impression that I was promising to marry him
because--what I don't know and it doesn't matter much, but I said:

"Hal, don't you think it is a little selfish of you to want to throw me
over just because you have lost your money? You are young, healthy, have
good character and influential connections, and plenty of good practical
ability and sense, so, surely, you will know no such thing as failure if
you meet the world bravely. Go and be the man you are; and if you fail,
when I am twenty-one I will marry you, and we will help each other. I am
young and strong, and am used to hard work, so poverty will not alarm me
in the least. If you want me, I want you.

"Syb, you are such a perfect little brick that I couldn't be such a
beggarly cur as to let you do that. I knew you were as true as steel
under your funny little whims and contrariness; and could you really love
me now that I am poor?"

I replied with vigour:

"Do you think I am that sort, that cares for a person only because he has
a little money? Why! that is the very thing I am always preaching
against. If a man was a lord or a millionaire I