e would never marry;
but, if she did, it would be a man doing a man's work in the world. Her
eyes turned wistfully to the house across the Street.

K.'s lamp still burned overhead, but his restless tramping about had
ceased. He must be reading--he read a great deal. She really ought to go
to bed. A neighborhood cat came stealthily across the Street, and stared
up at the little balcony with green-glowing eyes.

"Come on, Bill Taft," she said. "Reginald is gone, so you are welcome.
Come on."

Joe Drummond, passing the house for the fourth time that evening, heard
her voice, and hesitated uncertainly on the pavement.

"That you, Sid?" he called softly.

"Joe! Come in."

"It's late; I'd better get home."

The misery in his voice hurt her.

"I'll not keep you long. I want to talk to you."

He came slowly toward her.

"Well?" he said hoarsely.

"You're not very kind to me, Joe."

"My God!" said poor Joe. "Kind to you! Isn't the kindest thing I can do
to keep out of your way?"

"Not if you are hating me all the time."

"I don't hate you."

"Then why haven't you been to see me? If I have done anything--" Her
voice was a-tingle with virtue and outraged friendship.

"You haven't done anything but--show me where I get off."

He sat down on the edge of the balcony and stared out blankly.

"If that's the way you feel about it--"

"I'm not blaming you. I was a fool to think you'd ever care about me. I
don't know that I feel so bad--about the thing. I've been around seeing
some other girls, and I notice they're glad to see me, and treat me
right, too." There was boyish bravado in his voice. "But what makes me
sick is to have everyone saying you've jilted me."

"Good gracious! Why, Joe, I never promised."

"Well, we look at it in different ways; that's all. I took it for a
promise."

Then suddenly all his carefully conserved indifference fled. He bent
forward quickly and, catching her hand, held it against his lips.

"I'm crazy about you, Sidney. That's the truth. I wish I could die!"

The cat, finding no active antagonism, sprang up on the balcony and
rubbed against the boy's quivering shoulders; a breath of air stroked
the morning-glory vine like the touch of a friendly hand. Sidney,
facing for the first time the enigma of love and despair sat, rather
frightened, in her chair.

"You don't mean that!"

"I mean it, all right. If it wasn't for the folks, I'd jump in the
river. I lied when I said I'd be