to say it, sweetheart. Won't you?"

"Sometime, perhaps."

"When?"

"When--when it's dark."

"It's dark now."

"No it isn't. How did you know?"

"How did I know what, dear?"

"That I--that I--cared."

"I knew the day you cried. I didn't know myself until then, but it all
came in a minute."

"I was afraid you were going to stay away a whole week."

"I couldn't, darling--I just had to come."

"Did you see everybody you wanted to see?"

"I couldn't see anything but your face, Ruth, with the tears on it. I've
got to go back to-morrow and have another try at the oculist."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, in acute disappointment.

"It's the last time, sweetheart; we'll never be separated again."

"Never?"

"Never in all the world--nor afterward."

"I expect you think I'm silly," she said, wiping her eyes, as they rose
to go home, "but I don't want you to go away."

"I don't want to go, dearest. If you're going to cry, you'll have me a
raving maniac. I can't stand it, now."

"I'm not going to," she answered, smiling through her tears, "but it's a
blessed privilege to have a nice stiff collar and a new tie to cry on."

"They're at your service, dear, for anything but that. I suppose we're
engaged now, aren't we?"

"I don't know," said Ruth, in a low tone; "you haven't asked me to marry
you."

"Do you want me to?"

"It's time, isn't it?"

Winfield bent over and whispered to her.

"I must think about it," said Ruth, very gravely, "it's so sudden."

"Oh, you sweet girl," he laughed, "aren't you going to give me any
encouragement?"

"You've had some."

"I want another," he answered, purposely misunderstanding her, "and
besides, it's dark now."

The sweet-scented twilight still lingered on the hillside, and a star or
two gleamed through the open spaces above. A moment later, Ruth, in her
turn, whispered to him. It was only a word or two, but the bright-eyed
robins who were peeping at them from the maple branches must have
observed that it was highly satisfactory.

XII. Bride and Groom

Though Winfield had sternly determined to go back to town the following
day, he did not achieve departure until later. Ruth went to the station
with him, and desolation came upon her when the train pulled out, in
spite of the new happiness in her heart.

She had little time to miss him, however, for, at the end of the week,
and in accordance with immemorial custom, the Unexpected happened.

She was sitting at h