exactly as they thought they spoke them.

"My dear," persisted Isabel, rebukingly, "I mean such friends as Ruth
Byington."

Mrs. Morris let go her little Southern laugh once more. "Don't you
believe her, General--don't you believe her. She means you every bit as
much as she means Ruth. She means everybody on Bylow Hill."

"I'm at the mercy of my interpreter," said Isabel. "But I thought"--her
eyes went out upon the skyline again--"I thought that men--that men--I
thought that men--My dear, you've made me forget what I thought!"

They laughed, all three. Isabel, with a playful sigh, clutched her
mother's hand, and the pair drew off and moved away to the bench.

"He puts you in good spirits," said the mother, breaking a silence.

"Good spirits! He puts me in pure heartache. Oh, why did you tell him?"

"Tell him? My child! I have not told him!"

"Oh, mother, do you not see you've told him point-blank that it's all
settled?"

"No, dearie, no! I only see that your distress is making you fanciful.
But why should he not be told, Isabel?"

"I'm not ready! Oh, I'm not ready! It may suit him well enough to hear
it, for he knows Leonard is too fine and great for me; but I'm not ready