"And you are eighteen years old now," he said, in the same tone.

"Eighteen, going on nineteen," she corrected gaily.

"All right, eighteen--going on--nineteen. Three years ago there was a
little bargain made between us--without witnesses, that we would defer
all that was in our minds for three years--we'd give the matter a
three years' hoist--and then take it up just where we left it!"

She nodded, without speaking.

"Now I have thought about it a lot," he went on, "indeed I do not
think a day has gone by without my thinking of it, and incidentally,
I have thought of myself and my belongings. I wish to draw your
attention to them--I am twenty-nine years old--I've got a ten years'
start of you, and I will always expect to be treated with respect on
account of my years--that's clearly understood, is it?"

He was struggling to get himself in hand.

"Clearly understood," she repeated, with her eyes on him in
unmistakable adoration.

"Six years ago," he seemed to begin all over gain--"I came out of
college, with all sorts of fine theories, just bubbling over with
enthusiasm, much the same as you are now, fresh from Normal, but
somehow they have mostly flattened out, and now I find myself settling
down to the prosy life of a country doctor, who feeds his own horses
and blackens his own boots, and discusses politics with the retired