child with really beautiful brown hair, which she had foolishly bobbed,
lively blue eyes, and an absurdly tiny snub nose. She was little, with
quick, eager hands--a shallow creature who was proud to be seen with
Hugh because he had been captain of the high-school track team. But she
did wish that he wasn't so slow. Why, he had kissed her only once, and
that had been a silly peck on the cheek. Perhaps he was just shy, but
sometimes she was almost sure that he was "plain dumb."

They had walked silently along the country road to the woods that
skirted the town. An early frost had already touched the foliage with
scarlet and orange. They sat down on a fallen log, and Hugh gazed at a
radiant maple-tree.

Helen let her hand drop lightly on his. "Thinking of me?" she asked
softly.

Hugh squeezed her hand. "Yes," he whispered, and looked at the ground
while he scuffed some fallen leaves with the toe of his shoe.

"I am going to miss you, Hughie--oh, awfully. Are you going to miss me?"

He held her hand tightly and said nothing. He was aware only of her
hand. His throat seemed to be stopped, choked with something.

A bird that should have been on its way south chirped from a tree near
by. The sound made Hugh look up. He noticed that the shadows were
lengthening. He and Helen would have to start back pretty soon or he
would be late for dinner. There was still packing to do; his mother had
said that his father wanted to have a talk with him--and through all his
thoughts there ran like a fiery red line the desire to kiss the girl