ve."

"Very well," she replied carelessly, "let's go around the other way."

They followed the beach until they came to the other side of the hill,
but found no path leading back to civilisation, though the ascent could
easily be made.

"People have been here before," he said; "here are some initials cut
into this stone. What are they? I can't see."

Ruth stooped to look at the granite boulder he indicated. "J. H.," she
answered, "and J. B."

"It's incomplete," he objected; "there should be a heart with an arrow
run through it."

"You can fix it to suit yourself," Ruth returned, coolly, "I don't think
anybody will mind." She did not hear his reply, for it suddenly dawned
upon her that "J. H." meant Jane Hathaway.

They stood there in the twilight for some little time, watching the
changing colours on the horizon and then there was a faint glow on the
water from the cliff above. Ruth went out far enough to see that Hepsey
had placed the lamp in the attic window.

"It's time to go," she said, "inasmuch as we have to go back the way we
came."

They crossed to the other side and went back through the woods. It was
dusk, and they walked rapidly until they came to the log across the
path.

"So your friend isn't crazy," he said tentatively, as he tried to assist
her over it.

"That depends," she replied, drawing away from him; "you're indefinite."

"Forgot to wet the rag, didn't we?" he asked. "I will gladly assume the
implication, however, if I may be your friend."

"Kind, I'm sure," she answered, with distant politeness.

The path widened, and he walked by her side. "Have you noticed, Miss
Thorne, that we have trouble every time we approach that seemingly
innocent barrier? I think it would be better to keep away from it, don't
you?"

"Perhaps."

"What initials were those on the boulder? J. H. and--"

"J. B."

"I thought so. 'J. B.' must have had a lot of spare time at his
disposal, for his initials are cut into the 'Widder' Pendleton's gate
post on the inner side, and into an apple tree in the back yard."

"How interesting!"

"Did you know Joe and Hepsey were going out to-night?"

"No, I didn't--they're not my intimate friends."

"I don't see how Joe expects to marry on the income derived from the
village chariot."

"Have they got that far?"

"I don't know," replied Winfield, with the air of one imparting a
confidence. "You see, though I have been in this peaceful village for
some little tim