Francis rose promptly.

"I guess I'd rather not," Lois said, hurriedly.

"Oh, you run right along!" cried Mrs. Maxwell. "You'll want to see
the flowers on Mis' Perry's grave, too. I never saw such handsome
flowers as they had, an' they carried them all to the grave. Get your
hat, and run right along, it'll do you good."

"You'd better," said the young man, smiling pleasantly down at Lois.

She got up and left the room, and presently returned with her hat on.

"Don't sit down on the damp ground," Mrs. Field said as the two went
out. And her voice sounded more like herself than it had done since
she left Green River.

Lois walked gravely down the street beside Francis Arms. She had
never had any masculine attention. This was the first time she had
ever walked alone with a young man. She was full of that shy
consciousness which comes to a young girl who has had more dreams
than lovers, but her steady, sober face quite concealed it.

Francis kept glancing down at her, trying to think of something to
say. She never looked at him, and kept her shabby little shoes
pointed straight ahead on the extreme inside of the walk, as intently
as if she were walking on a line. Nobody would have dreamed how her
heart, in spite of the terrible exigency in which she was placed, was
panting insensibly with the sweet rhythm of youth. In the midst of