he oven, and
shaping the raised biscuit which Betty had left half-finished.

Then she paused a moment to look out of the window down the path
where the boys and little Janey would soon come tumbling home from
school, hot and hungry. A tear slowly coursed down her cheek, and,
following the curves, trembled on the tip of her chin. She brushed it
away impatiently. Of course it had to come--that was what life must
bring--but ah! not so soon--not so soon. Then she set about
preparations for dinner without Betty's help. That, too, was what it
would mean--sometime--to go on doing things without Betty. She gave a
little sigh, and at the instant an arm was slipped about her waist,
and she turned to look in Bertrand's eyes.

"Is it all right, Mary?"

"Why--yes--that is--if they'll always love each other as we have. I
think it ought not to be too definite an engagement, though, until his
plans are more settled. What do you think?"

"You are right, no doubt. I'll speak to him about that." Then he
kissed her warm, flushed cheek. "I declare, it makes me feel as Peter
Junior feels again, to have this happen."

"Ah, Bertrand! You never grew up--thank the Lord!" Then Mary laughed.
After all, they had been happy, and why not Betty and Peter? Surely
the young had their rights.

Bertrand climbed back to the studio where Peter Junior was pacing
restlessly back and forth, and again they talked it all over, until
the call came for dinner, when Peter was urged to stay, but would not.
No, he would not see Betty again until he could have her quite to
himself. So he limped away, feeling as if he were walking on air in
spite of his halting gait, and Betty from her window watched him pass
down the path and off along the grassy roadside. Then she went down to
dinner, flushed and grave, but with shining eyes. Her father kissed
her, but nothing was said, and the children thought nothing of it, for
it was quite natural in the family to kiss Betty.

CHAPTER IX

THE BANKER'S POINT OF VIEW

There was no picnic and nutting party the next day, owing to a
downpour of rain. Betty had time to think quietly over what had
happened the day before and her mind misgave her. What was it that so
filled her heart and mind? That so stirred her imagination? Was it
romance or love? She wished she knew how other girls felt who had
lovers. Was it easy or hard for them to say yes? Should a girl let her
lover kiss her the way Peter Junior had done? Some o