m glad you came. Yes: I was frightened. They must have overheard
us there when we were talking."

"Well, I didn't say anything I'm ashamed of. Besides, I shouldn't care
much for the opinion of those nurses and babies."

"Of course not. But people must have seen us. Don't stand here talking,
Dan! Do come on!" She hurried him across the street, and walked him
swiftly up the incline of Beacon Street. There, in her new fall suit,
with him, glossy-hatted, faultlessly gloved, at a fit distance from her
side, she felt more in keeping with the social frame of things than in
the Garden path, which was really only a shade better than the Beacon
Street Mall of the Common. "Do you suppose anybody saw us that knew us?"

"I hope so! Don't you want people to know it?"

"Yes, of course. They will have to know it--in the right way. Can you
believe that it's only half a year since we met? It won't be a year till
Class Day."

"I don't believe it, Alice. I can't recollect anything before I knew
you."

"Well, now, as time is so confused, we must try to live for eternity.
We must try to help each other to be good. Oh, when I think what a happy
girl I am, I feel that I should be the most ungrateful person under the
sun not to be good. Let's try to make our lives perfect--perfect! They
can be. And we mustn't live for each other alone. We must try to do good
as well as be good. We must be kind and forbearing with every one."

He answered, with tender seriousness, "My life's in your hands, Alice.
It shall be whatever you wish."

They were both silent in their deep belief of this. When they spoke
again, she began gaily: "I shall never get over the wonder of it. How
strange that we should meet at the Museum!" They had both said this
already, but that did not matter; they had said nearly everything two
or three times. "How did you happen to be there?" she asked, and the
question was so novel that she added, "I haven't asked you before."

He stopped, with a look of dismay that broke up in a hopeless laugh.
"Why, I went there to meet some people--some ladies. And when I saw you
I forgot all about them."

Alice laughed to; this was a part of their joy, their triumph.

"Who are they?" she asked indifferently, and only to heighten the
absurdity by realising the persons.

"You don't know them," he said. "Mrs. Frobisher and her sister, of
Portland. I promised to meet them there and go out to Cambridge with
them."

"What will they think?" a