soft fool, Charlie Bowen, they met again at the Young People's social.
He was all dressed up in a new suit of clothes and of course Amy didn't
know him. They were together all that evening, and since then, though
she has found out who he is, she talks with him at every opportunity.
They meet at the Society, at church, at picnics and parties, and
sometimes in the printing office. I tell you you'd better watch him.
He's doing his level best to get in with her, and just look how he's
working everybody else. Half the town is crazy over him."

Low spoken as were Frank's words, Amy heard every one, for she had not
retired as her brother supposed, but was lying on a couch just inside
the doorway of the darkened parlor. With burning cheeks, she rose
cautiously and tiptoed out of the silent room. Making her way upstairs
and entering her own chamber, she closed and bolted the door, and then,
throwing herself on the floor by the low seat of an open window, rested
her head on her arm while she looked up at the stars now shining clear
and bright. Once she started impatiently and her eyes filled with angry
tears. Then she grew calm again, and soon the girlish face was worthy
of a master's brush as she gazed reverently into the beautiful heavens,
her lips moving in a whispered prayer; a softly whispered prayer for
Dick. And as she prayed, in the shadow of the Catalpa trees, unseen
by her, a man walked slowly down the street. Reaching the corner, he
turned and slowly passed the house again; crossing the street, he
passed once more on the opposite side, paused a moment at the corner,
and then started hurriedly away toward the business portion of the
city.