ected rapidly how she herself had made that orange cake, and
what queer coffee Susan would be apt to concoct.

"No, thank you," said Tom Reed, briskly. "I will drop in another
evening. Think I must go home now. I have some important letters. Good
night, all."

Annie made a soft rush to the gate, crouching low that her sisters might
not see her. They flocked into the house with irascible murmurings, like
scolding birds, while Annie stole across the grass, which had begun to
glisten with silver wheels of dew. She held her skirts closely wrapped
around her, and stepped through a gap in the shrubs beside the walk,
then sped swiftly to the gate. She reached it just as Tom Reed was
passing with a quick stride.

"Tom," said Annie, and the young man stopped short.

He looked in her direction, but she stood close to a great
snowball-bush, and her dress was green muslin, and he did not see her.
Thinking that he had been mistaken, he started on, when she called
again, and this time she stepped apart from the bush and her voice
sounded clear as a flute.

"Tom," she said. "Stop a minute, please."

Tom stopped and came close to her. In the dim light she could see that
his face was all aglow, like a child's, with delight and surprise.

"Is that you, Annie?" he said.

"Yes. I want to speak to you, please."

"I have been here before, and I rang the bell three times. Then you were
out, although your sisters thought not."

"No, I was in the house."

"You did not hear the bell?"

"Yes, I heard it every time."

"Then why--?"

"Come into the house with me and I will tell you; at least I will tell
you all I can."

Annie led the way and the young man followed. He stood in the dark entry
while Annie lit the parlor lamp. The room was on the farther side of the
house from the parsonage.

"Come in and sit down," said Annie. Then the young man stepped into
a room which was pretty in spite of itself. There was an old Brussels
carpet with an enormous rose pattern. The haircloth furniture gave out
gleams like black diamonds under the light of the lamp. In a corner
stood a what-not piled with branches of white coral and shells. Annie's
grandfather had been a sea-captain, and many of his spoils were in the
house. Possibly Annie's own occupation of it was due to an adventurous
strain inherited from him. Perhaps the same impulse which led him to
voyage to foreign shores had led her to voyage across a green yard to
the next house.