The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1916-07-29
(Continued.)

you d1nerently-the drawing gentle ness was unaltered-''but I'll have to finish this way now. There may not be many chances for me to speak, for I've come back to you almost too late. And don't want to hurt you. Why, I'm going to keep the laughter in your eyes and heart as long as you live, for I thought it would be woman I'd find when I came back, and I've found you still girl-al1 save in those mo- ments when you've seemed half boy to me. And that is strange, too, isn't it. strange that I never knew how much I wanted you to be like that until you taught me the wonder of it yourself? My eyes are stinging. I don't talk quite plainly. My throat is too tight for easy speech, for it's Just the old wonder of you after all-just the same reverence, isn't it? I'll never let you grow up now You1l have to stay girl -boy-all the rest of your life! I've learned to be fairly sure of myself, but I'm not asking to be sure of you yet. I'd never cant to be too sure of you unless all the rest of my whole world had come tumbling down. And then then I'd need oNknow always that could stake my soul on your keeping faith. I'd want to know that I could reach out and find your hand search ing for mine in the dark. tour face was the first, girl-it's been the only one. It'll be the last thing I'll see the last moment there is sight in, my eyesr'
 His slow, infinitely gentle voice stop ped. He sat head up before her. Then silently they mounted their horses and rode toward the town.
 She rode with wide eyes fastened upon his face; rode with lips parted, all else submerged in that wonder which quickened her breath. Once she leaned toward him as if to speak and then shook her head at the made quacy of the words. They topped the last rise in the dusty, winding road and raised the river basin and the town itself in that long period of si- lence. There once more she checked the roan mare.
 Quite on a mutual impulse they clasped hands and looked into. each 1 others eyes-quite unnecessarily it | may have appeared to the small group on the veranda of the stucco and tim Der place halfway down the slope be | tween them and town-and there on | the crest of the hill, suddenly con- scious of those eyes, the girl drew back as swiftly as she had swung to- l ward him.
 What in the world will they think ?'' she breat thed. i've been gone since daybreak without saying a word that I was going. And it must be noon by now. Come-no, don't hurry! It's too late to hurry nowr'
 | Her chin came up; the line of her lips lost it's soft fullness. It was his hot face which made her aware of how surely her fmperiously quick orders 1 had stung him. Then she was back, knee to knee. at his side.
 | That wasn't fair" she said. tThat was most unfair to me. You didn't think, did you, that I''-
 His interruption surprised her.
 eff shouldn't fnquire," he asked, twill you please tell me and forget l asked the question: May I know when you-you and MT. Wickersham 1 are to be-
 Barbara's face went slowly crimson, flushed to the nape of her neck.
 "It's not certainty yet, the date" she answered kindly-"just late in the i spring, think"
 He nodded. Again she knew how | hnI da1 1,l hfc ho
 Hate in the spring." he repeated so softly that he might have been talking to himself. Hate in the spring I'll have two time limits run out on me-"
 Wickersham himself was coming across the lawn to meet them when they drew rein at the head of the driveway. Just as Miriam Burrell, with studied deliberation that match ed that of the tall figure ahead of her, in turn detached herself from the throhg and came down the steps Bar bara's eyes raised to Steve's. She did not stop to reason it. She couldn't have made it sound reasonable had she tried, but she did not want those two to meet again just then-those two whose boyhood quarrel had center ed about herself.
 Wont you keep Ragtims until you come back to Uncle Gals tonight?'' she asked. i've kept you loitering for hours and hours on the way. But 1t will save you a little time"
 And this time Steve understood. He nodded in reply.
 ''Not a chance?" he asked her quiet. ly. "Not a chance?"
 She was wheeling the roan-
 "Not a chance.' she whispered. "Not chance in the world! But we A:r. Elliott promised to show us the works this afternoon,' she added fin the next breath. Gan you-do you suppose you can come?'
 And then as she turned the mare and went skimming up the drive to. ward the stable she wondered why he laughed.
 In his turn Steve set Ragtime's head toward the town in the valley. And