"Yes--yes, John, and the coffee-bean locket. I've got them both in a
little box at home." Then, scampering back to her reserve, she added,
"You know ma says I'm a regular rat to store things away." She felt
that the sudden reserve chilled him, for in a minute or two she said,
looking at the bridge: "They're going now. We mustn't stay but a
minute." She put her hand on the rock between them, and said, "You
remember that night when you went away before?" Before he answered she
went on: "I was counting up this afternoon, and it's six years ago. We
were just children then."

Again the boy found his voice: "Ellen Culpepper, we've been going
together seven years. Don't you think that's long enough?"

"We were just children then," she replied.

The boy leaned awkwardly toward her and their hands met on the rock,
and he withdrew his as he asked, "Do you--do you?"

She bent toward him, and looked at him steadily as she nodded her head
again and again. She rose to go, saying, "We mustn't stay here any
longer."

He caught her hand to stop her, and said, "Ellen--Ellen, promise me
just one thing." She looked her question. He cried, "That you won't
forget--just that you won't forget."

She took his hand and stood before him as he sat, hoping to stay her.
She answered: "Not as long as I live, John Barclay. Oh, not as long as
I live." Then she exclaimed: "Now--" and her voice changed, "we just
must go, John; Molly's gone, and it's getting late." She helped him