u mustn't hope--remember, you
_mustn't_ hope, Mary, whatever you do."

"No, I mustn't hope. I told him I wouldn't go."

"Some folks is grand little jokers. Women can't help stringing a man
along, can they? Of course you'll go."

She cast her arms about Mary Gage, and held her tight. "You poor kid!"
said she. "You get your eyes first, and let's figure out the rest
after that. You make me tired. Cut out all that duty and sacrifice
stuff. Live and get yours. That's the idea!"

"Now, you sit here." She rose and placed a comforting hand on Mary's
shoulder. "Just keep quiet here, and I'll go out and see if I can call
Henry Gardner. He seems to me like a man that wouldn't scare easy.
I'll go as far as the fence and yoo-hoo at him. I'll be right back."

But Annie Squires did not come back for almost an hour. Wid Gardner,
coming across lots by the creek path, found Mary Gage alone, and sat
with her there in an uneasiness he could not himself conceal, wondering
over the girl's absence. Mary was well-nigh beside herself when at
length they heard Annie coming rapidly, saw her at the door.

"Get back in!" she said. "Sit down, both of you! Wait, now--Listen!
Who do you think I found right out here, almost in our very yard, Mary?"

Panting, she seated herself, and after a time began more coherently.
"I'll tell you. I just walked out to the gate, and says I to myself,
I'll yoo-hoo so that Mr. Gardner can hear over there and come on down.
So I yoo-hooed. Did you hear me?"

Wid shook his head. "I didn't hear nothing."

"Well, I heard some one holler back, soft-like, 'Yoo-hoo!' It didn't
sound just right, so I walked on a little more. 'Yoo-hoo!' says I.
Then I seen a man come out of the bushes. I seen it wasn't you, all
right. He come on right fast, and Mary--I couldn't of believed it, but
it's the truth. It was Charlie--Charlie Dorenwald! I couldn't make no
mistake about them legs.

"When I seen who it was I turned around to run. I was scared he'd
shoot me. He hollered at me to stop, and I stopped. He come after me
and caught me by the arm, and he laughs. I was scared silly--silly, I
tell you. He laughs some more, and then he sobers down to solid talk.

"'Why, Charlie,' says I, 'it can't be you. I'm so glad.' I allowed
the best thing was to jolly him along. I knew he'd make trouble. I
wanted a chance to think.

"We stood out there so close I could see the cabin all the time--and we
talked.