and wild violets. Quite close to the bench a spring bubbled out of the
hill-side, and ran singing through a hollowed locust log, which was mossy
green where the water had over-flowed, with a musical drip, upon the
grass underneath.

They stood a moment looking towards the west, where a golden dust seemed
blown across the sky, up into the darkness; then Lois took her seat upon
the bench. "When do you think you will get off, Giff?" she said.

"I'm not quite sure," he answered; he was sitting on one of the lower
steps, and leaning on his elbow in the grass, so that he might see her
face. "I suppose it will take a fortnight to arrange everything."

"I'm sorry for that," Lois said, disappointedly. "I thought you would go
in a few days."

Gifford was silent, and began to pick three long stems of grass and braid
them together. Lois sat absently twisting the fringe on one end of the
soft scarf of yellow crepe, which was knotted across her bosom, and fell
almost to the hem of her white dress.

"I mean," she said, "I'm sorry Helen won't have you in Lockhaven. Of
course Ashurst will miss you. Oh, dear! how horrid it will be not to
have Helen here!"

"Yes," said Gifford sympathetically, "you'll be awfully lonely."

They were silent for a little while. Some white phlox in the girl's bosom
glimmered faintly, and its heavy fragrance stole out upon the warm air.
She pulled off a cluster of the star-like blossoms, and held them