In five minutes Kemp had grounded the boat and helped Mrs. Levice out.
When he turned for Ruth, she had already sprung ashore and had started up
the slope; for the first time the oars lay forgotten in the bottom of the
boat.

"Wait for us, Ruth," called Mrs. Levice, and the slight white figure stood
still till they came up.

"You are so slow," she said with a reckless little laugh; "I feel as if I
could fly home."

"Are you light-headed, Ruth?" asked her mother, but the girl had fallen
behind them. She could not yet meet his eyes again.

"Come, Ruth, either stay with us or just ahead of us." Mrs. Levice, awake,
was an exemplary duenna.

"There is nothing abroad here but the stars," she answered, flitting before
them.

"And they are stanch, silent friends on such a night," remarked Kemp,
softly.

She kept before them till they reached the gate, and stood inside of it as
they drew near.

"Then you will not be home till Monday," he said, taking Mrs. Levice's hand
and raising his hat; "and I am off on the early morning train. Good-by."

As she turned in at the gate, he held out his hand to Ruth. His fingers