``Yes. Oh, he declared he shouldn't want her
to sit under that lamp all the time, of course;
but he hoped she'd like that sort of thing.''

Marie threw a quick glance at the stolid back
of John beyond the two empty seats in front of
them. Although she knew he could not hear her
words, instinctively she lowered her voice.

``Did you know--then--about--me?'' she
asked, with heightened color.

``No, only that there was a girl somewhere
who, he hoped, would sit under the lamp some
day. And when I asked him if the girl did like
that sort of thing, he said yes, he thought so;
for she had told him once that the things she liked
best of all to do were to mend stockings and
make puddings. Then I knew, of course, 'twas
you, for I'd heard you say the same thing. So
I sent him right along out to you in the summer-
house.''

The pink flush on Marie's face grew to a red
one. Her blue eyes turned again to John's broad
back, then drifted to the long, imposing line of
windowed walls and doorways on the right. The
automobile was passing smoothly along Beacon
Street now with the Public Garden just behind