without another second's
hesitation. "Tie it tight, or it'll slip out and I'll lose it. Good-bye,
and thank you, Mr. Dysart," thrusting a hot little fist into his. "I'll
keep some of the hundred and twenty ones for you and Joyce."

He rushes away down the hill, eager to tell his grand news to Mabel, and
presently Joyce and Dysart are alone again.

"You see you were not so clever a diplomatist as you thought yourself,"
says Joyce, smiling faintly; "Tommy came back."

"Tommy and I have one desire in common; we both want to be with you."

"Could you be bought off like Tommy?" says she, half playfully. "Oh, no!
Half a crown would not be good enough."

"Would all the riches the world contains be good enough?" says he in a
voice very low, but full of emotion. "You know it would not. But you,
Joyce--twelve months is a long time. You may see others--if not
Beauclerk--others--and----"

"Money would not tempt me," says the girl slowly. "If money were your
rival, you would indeed be safe. You ought to know that."

"Still--Joyce----" He stops suddenly. "May I think of you as Joyce? I
have called you so once or twice, but----"

"You may always call me so," says she gently, if indifferently. "All my
friends call me so, and you--are my friend, surely!"

The very sweetness of her manner, cold as ice as it is, drives him to
desperation.

"Not your friend--your lover!" says he with sudden passion. "Joyce,
think of all that I have said--all you nave promised. A small matter to
you perhaps--the whole world to me. You will wait for me for twelve
months. You will try to love me. You----"

"Yes, but there is something more to be said," cries the girl, springing
to her feet as if in violent protest, and confronting him with a curious
look--set--determined--a little frightened perhaps.

CHAPTER XX.

"'I thought love had been a joyous thing,' quoth my uncle Toby."

"He hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper.
For what his heart thinks his tongue speaks."

"More?" says Dysart startled by her expression, and puzzled as well.

"Yes!" hurriedly. "This!" The very nervousness that is consuming her
throws fire into her eyes and speech. "During all these long twelve
months I shall be free. Quite free. You forgot to put that in! You must
remember that! If--if I should, after all this thinking, decide on not
having anything to do with you--you," vehemently, "will have no right to
reproach me. R