said you would try." She laughed a little, and
looked away from him. "I want to know if you
would have come."

There was a silence, and in spite of her averted
glance she knew that he was looking at her steadily.
Finally, "Don't you know?" he said.

She shook her head and blushed faintly.

"Don't you know?" he repeated.

She looked up and met his eyes, and thereupon
both became very grave. "Yes, I do," she
answered. "You would have come. When you left
me at the gate and went away, you were afraid.
But you would have come."

"Yes,--I'd have come. You are right. I was
afraid at first; but I knew," he went on, rapidly,
"that you would have come to the gate to meet me."

"You understood that?" she cried, her eyes
sparkling and her face flushing happily.

"Yes. I knew that you wouldn't have asked
me to come," he said, with a catch in his voice
which was half chuckle, half groan, "if you hadn't
meant to take care of me! And it came to me that
you would know how to do it."