conceal. Uncle Robert was in bed, she said, and Gray did not
perceive any significance in the tone with which she added, that
her mother hardly ever left him. She did not know what the matter
was, but he was very pale, and he seemed to be growing weaker. The
doctor was cheery and hopeful, but her mother, she emphasized, was
most alarmed, and again Gray did not notice the girl's peculiar
tone. Nor did the colonel seem to be worried by the threats of the
night riders. It was Jason Hawn who was worried and had persuaded
the colonel to send for Gray. The girl halted when she spoke
Jason's name, and the boy looked up to find her face scarlet and
her eyes swerve suddenly from his to the passing fields. But as
quickly they swerved back to find Gray's face aflame with the
thought of Mavis. For a moment both looked straight ahead in
silence, and in that silence Marjorie became aware that Gray had
not asked about Jason, and Gray that Marjorie had not mentioned
Mavis's name. But now both made the omission good-and Gray spoke
first.

Mavis was well. She was still teaching school. She had lived a
life of pathetic loneliness, but she had developed in an amazing
way through that very fact, and she had grown very beautiful. She
had startled him by her insight into--he halted--into everything--
and how was Jason getting along? The girl had been listening,
covertly watching, and had grown quite calm. Jason, too, was well,
but he looked worried and overworked. His examinations were going
on now. He had written his graduating speech but had not shown it
to her, though he had said he would. Her mother and Uncle Robert
had grown very fond of him and admired him greatly, but lately she
had not seen him, he was so busy. Again there was a long silence
between them, but when they reached, the hill whence both their