subjects in conversation--

"Dear, what a ducking Arthur and I got in a thunderstorm one time. We
were out hazel-nutting and--"

"Do you always call Mr. Grafton Arthur?" interrupted Clarence, a little
impatiently.

"Oh, yes! Why, how funny it would seem to call Arthur Mr. Grafton!"

"Beth"--he grew paler and his voice almost trembled,--"Beth, do you love
Arthur Grafton?"

"Love Arthur! Why, dear, no! I never thought of it. He's just like my
brother. Besides," she continued after a pause, "Arthur is going away
off somewhere to be a missionary, and I don't think I could be happy if
I married a man who wasn't a writer."

That was very naive of Beth. She forgot Clarence's literary
pretensions.

"Then can you love me, Beth? Don't you see that I love you?"

There was a moment's silence. Their eyes met in a long, earnest look. An
impulse of tenderness came over her, and she threw both arms about his
neck as he clasped her to his breast. The stars were shining above and
the water breaking at their feet. They understood each other without
words.

"Oh, Clarence, I am so happy, so very happy!"