too soon. Before, in that dreaming time, I saw that I had drawn water like the Danaides, in a pitcher full of holes. But now—I wondered how long she would find it good to be alone. I felt that I had been alone long enough, and that seven minutes, or possibly eight, might suffice even her.
She came almost with the thought, though I believe she did not hurry after she saw that I observed her.
"I had to be alone a long time, to think well about it—to think it all out," she said simply.
I thought it unnecessary to state the precise number of minutes this had required. Instead I showed her all those strange new stars above us, and together we surveyed the replenished heavens.
"How light it is—and so late!" she murmured absently.
"Come back to our porch."
There for the first time in its green life my vine came into its natural right of screening lovers. In its shade my love cast down her eyes, but intrepidly lifted her lips. Miss Caroline was still where she should have remained in the first place.
"I am very happy, Little Miss!"
"You shall be still happier, Calvin Blake. I haven't waited this long without knowing—"
"Nor I! I know, too."
"I hope Jim will be glad," she suggested.
"He'll be delighted, and vastly relieved. It has puzzled him fearfully of late to see you living away from me."
