hat she had said, to grow hot and
cold at the thought of his daring, to reconstruct the world of
yesterday and organize the new.

He went to the back of chapel and sat down on the cool steps, under
the impenetrable clouds of the night.

"She's twenty-four, only twenty-four," he said to himself. "I'm
sixteen, almost seventeen--that's only seven years' difference."

XXII

When Stover awoke the next morning it was to the light of the blushing
day. He thought of the events of the night before and sprang up in
horror. What had he been thinking of? He had made an ass of himself, a
complete, egregious ass. What had possessed him? He looked at himself
in the glass and his heart sunk at the thought of what she must be
thinking. He was glad she was going. He did not want to see her again.
He would never visit Tough McCarty. Thank Heaven it was daylight again
and he had recovered his senses.

Indignant at every one, himself most of all, he went to chapel and to
recitations, profoundly thankful that he would not have to face her in
the mocking light of the day. That he never could have done, never,
never!

As he left second recitation Tough McCarty joined him.

"I say, Dink, they both wanted to be remembered to you, and here's a
note from Sis."

"A note?"

"Here it is."

Stover stood staring at a violet envelope, inscribed in large,
flowing letters: "Mr. John H. Stover."

Then he put it in his pocket hastily and went to his room. Luckily the
Tennessee Shad was poaching in the village. He locked the door,
secured the transom and drew out the note. It was sealed with a crest
and perfumed with a heavenly scent. He held it in his hand a long
while, convulsively, and then broke the seal with an awkward finger
and read:

_Dear Mr. Stover_: Just a word to thank you for being my
faithful cavalier. Don't forget that you are to pay us a
good, long visit this summer, and that we are to become
the best of chums.

Your very good _friend_,
JOSEPHINE MCCARTY.

P. S. Don't dare to "kick yourself about the place,"
whatever that may mean.

When Dink had read this through once he immediately began it again.
The second reading left him more bewildered than ever. It was the
first time he had come in contact with a manifestation of the workings
of the feminine mind. What did she intend him to understand?

"I'll read it again," he said, perching on the back of a chair. "Dear
Mr. Stover!" He stopped and c