over his shoulders. He had demurred a little. "I can't go down the
street with your shawl on, Sylvia," he had pleaded, but Sylvia
insisted.

"You'll catch your death of cold, goin' home in your shirt-sleeves,"
she said. "They won't know it's my shawl. Men wear shawls."

"You've worn this ever since I've known you, Sylvia, an' I ain't
given to catchin' cold easy," said Richard almost pitifully. But he
stood still and let Sylvia pin the shawl around his neck. Sylvia
seemed to have suddenly acquired a curious maternal authority over
him, and he submitted to it as if it were merely natural that he
should.

Richard Alger went meekly down the road, wearing the old brown shawl
that had often draped Sylvia Crane's slender feminine shoulders when
she walked abroad, since she was a young girl. Sylvia had always worn
it corner-wise, but she had folded it square for him as making it
more of a masculine garment. Two corners waved out stiffly from his
square shoulders. He tried to swing his arms unconcernedly under it;
once the fringe hit his hand and he jumped.

He was shame-faced when he struck out into the main road, but he did
not dream of taking off the shawl. A very passion of obedience and
loyalty to Sylvia had taken possession of him. With every submission
after long persistency, there is a strong reverse action, as from the
sudden cessation of any motion. Richard now yielded in more marked
measure than he had opposed. He had borne with his whimsical will
against all his sweetheart's dearest wishes during the better part of
her life; now he would wear any insignia of bondage if she bade him.

He had gone a short distance on the main road when he met Hannah
Berry. She was hurrying along, her face was quite red, and he could
hear her pant as she drew near. She looked at him sharply, she fairly
narrowed her eyes over the shawl. "Good-mornin'," said she.

Richard said "Good-morning," gruffly. The shawl blew out against
Hannah's shoulder as she passed him. She turned about and stared
after him, and he knew it. He went on with dogged chin in the folds
of the shawl.

Hannah Berry hurried along to Sylvia Crane's. When she opened the
door Sylvia was just coming out of the parlor, and the two sisters
met in the entry with a kind of shock.

"Oh, it's you," murmured Sylvia. Sylvia cast down her eyes before her
sister. She tried not to smile. Her hair was tumbled and there were
red spots on her cheeks.

"Has he been here all t