gentleman! Perchance,
you will accept a reward: a cup of tea--or a high ball!"

"Perchance, I will--the high ball!"

"I thought so! come along."

"You were not going out?"

She looked at him, with a sly smile.

"You know that I have just returned," she said. "I saw you in the
window at Clarendon."

"I was there," he admitted.

"And you came over at once--prepared to be surprised that I was here."

"And found you waiting for me--just as I expected."

"Oh!" she cried. "You're horrid! perfectly horrid!"

"_Peccavi! Peccavi!_" he said humbly.

"_Te absolvo!_" she replied, solemnly. "Now, let us make a fresh
start--by going for a walk. You can postpone the high ball until we
return."

"I can postpone the high ball for ever," he averred.

"Meaning, you could walk forever, or you're not thirsty?" she laughed.

"Meaning, I could walk forever _with you_--on, and on, and on----"

"Until you walked into the Bay--I understand. I'll take the will for
the deed--the water's rather chilly at this season of the year."

Macloud held up his hand, in mock despair.

"Let us make a third start--drop the attempt to be clever and talk
sense. I think I can do it, if I try."

"Willingly!" she responded.

As they came out on the side walk, Croyden was going down the street.
He crossed over and met them.

"I've not forgot your admonition, so don't be uneasy," he observed to
Macloud. "I'm going to town now, I'll be back in about half an hour--is
that too soon?"

"It's quite soon enough!" was the answer.

Miss Carrington looked at Macloud, quizzically, but made no comment.

"Shall we take the regulation walk?" she asked.

"The what?"

"The regulation walk--to the Cemetery and back."

"I'm glad we're coming back?" he laughed.

"It's the favorite walk, here," she explained--"the most picturesque
and the smoothest."

"To say nothing of accustoming the people to their future home,"
Macloud remarked.

"You're not used to the ways of small towns--the Cemetery is a resort,
a place to spend a while, a place to visit."

"Does it make death any easier to hob-nob with it?" he asked.

"I shouldn't think so," she replied. "However, I can see how it would
induce morbidity, though there are those who are happiest only when
they're miserable."

"Such people ought to live in a morgue," agreed Macloud. "However
we're safe enough--we can go to the Cemetery with impunity."

"There are some rather queer old headstones, out the