wonderful night."

"Thank you. Austin--you and Sally will have to help me shop when I get to
New York--Heaven knows what I can wear to travel down in."

Austin stopped raking, and flung himself down on the grass beside her.
"Sylvia," he said quickly, "I'm awfully sorry, but I can't go."

"Can't go! Why not?" she exclaimed, with so much disappointment in her
voice that he was amazed.

"Father's a selectman now, you know, and away all day just at this time
on town business. There's too much farmwork for Thomas and Peter to
manage alone. I didn't foresee this, of course, when I accepted your
uncle's invitation. I can't tell you how much it means to me to give it
up, but you must see that I've got to."

"Yes, I see," she said gravely, and sat silently for some minutes,
fingering the frill on her sleeve. Then she went on: "Uncle Mat wants me
to stay a month or six weeks with him, and I think I ought to, after.
deserting him for so long. When I come back, my own little house will be
ready for me, and it will be warm enough for me to move in there, so I
think these last few days will be 'good-bye.' Your family has let me stay
a year--the happiest year of all my life--and I know your mother loves
me--almost as much as I love her--and hates to have me go. But all
families are better off by themselves, and in one way I think I've stayed
too long already."

"You mean Thomas?"