-and know how much she loved him!--the words were like wine to
her. Then she looked at the clock and was startled to see that it was
five. She must hurry! He might come home and stop her!...

She was perfectly calm; she put on her coat and hat and opened the front
door; then saw the gleam of lights on the wet pavement and felt the
March drizzle in her face; she reflected that it would be very wet in
the meadow, and went back for her rubbers.

When the car came banging cheerfully along, she boarded it and sat so
that she would be able to see Lily's house. "She's getting his supper,"
Eleanor thought; "dear little Jacky! Well, he will be having his supper
with Maurice pretty soon! I wonder how she'll get along with Mary? Mary
will call her 'Mrs. Curtis,' Mary would leave in a minute if she knew
what kind of a person 'Mrs. Curtis' was!" She smiled at that; it pleased
her. "But she mustn't call him 'Maurice,'" she thought; "I won't permit
_that_!"

The car stopped, and all the other passengers got out. Eleanor vaguely
watched the conductor pull the trolley pole round for the return trip;
then she rose hurriedly. As she started along the road toward the meadow
she thought. "I can walk into the water; I never could jump in! But it
will be easy to wade in." That made her think of the picnic, and the
wading, and how Maurice had tied Edith's shoestrings; and with that came
a surge of triumph. "When he reads my letter, and knows how much I love
him, he'll forget her. And when she hears he has married Lily, she'll
stop making love to him by getting him to tie her shoestrings!"

It was quite dark by this time, and chilly; she had meant to sit down
for a while, with her back against the locust tree, and think how, _at
last_, he was going to realize her love! But when she reached the bank
of the river she stooped and felt the winter-bleached grass, and found
it so wet with the small, fine rain which had begun to fall, that she
was afraid to sit down. "I'd add to my cold," she thought. So she stood
there a long time, looking at the river, leaden now in the twilight.
"How it glittered that day!" she thought. Suddenly, on a soft wind of
memory, she seemed to smell the warm fragrance of the clover, and hear
again her own voice, singing in the sunshine--

"Through the clear windows of the morning!"

"I'll leave my coat on the bank," she said; "but I'll wear my hat; it
will keep my hair from getting messy. ... Oh, Maurice mustn't let h