"I came to find you," he said. "Do you suppose you can disappear off
the face of the earth for two weeks and that I will not be worried?
Why, I came from New York to hunt you up--just got here this afternoon
and was over at Bolum's when we saw the light. Now give an account of
yourself."

"It isn't necessary," said I, smiling complacently. I put the lamp on
the table and picked up my hat. "I'll be back in a while," I said.
"I'm going up to see Mary."

"To see Mary?" Tim cried.

"Yes, to see Mary," I answered.

Then, with a little flourish of triumph, I handed him her note.

Tim read it. His face became very grave, and he looked from it to me,
and then turned and, with an elbow resting on the mantel, stood gazing
down into the empty fireplace.

"Well?" I exclaimed, angered by his mood.

"This is two weeks old, Mark," he said, handing me the paper.

"What of it?" I cried querulously, putting on my hat and moving to the
door.

My hand was on the knob turning it, when Tim said, "Mary has left the
valley."