placard on his breast announcing to all and sundry that the ankle was
improving, etc. And now she must go and ask this stale question again.

Kenneth was tired of inquiries about his ankle. But then he had not
often been asked about it by lips with such an adorable kissable dent
just above them. Perhaps that was why he answered very patiently that it
was getting on well and didn't trouble him much, if he didn't walk or
stand too long at a time.

"They tell me it will be as strong as ever in time, but I'll have to cut
football out this fall."

They danced together and Rilla knew every girl in sight envied her.
After the dance they went down the rock steps and Kenneth found a little
flat and they rowed across the moonlit channel to the sand-shore; they
walked on the sand till Kenneth's ankle made protest and then they sat
down among the dunes. Kenneth talked to her as he had talked to Nan and
Di. Rilla, overcome with a shyness she did not understand, could not
talk much, and thought he would think her frightfully stupid; but in
spite of this it was all very wonderful--the exquisite moonlit night,
the shining sea, the tiny little wavelets swishing on the sand, the cool
and freakish wind of night crooning in the stiff grasses on the crest of
the dunes, the music sounding faintly and sweetly over the channel.

"'A merry lilt o' moonlight for mermaiden revelry,'" quoted Kenneth
softly from one of Walter's poems.

And just he and she alone together in the glamour of sound and sight! If
only her slippers didn't bite so! and if only she could talk cleverly
like Miss Oliver--nay, if she could only talk as she did herself to