interjected:

"There 'aint no cliff, Hepsey, and you know it. I always tell her, Mr.
Maxwell, 'taint appropriate a bit."

"Jonathan, you 'aint no Englishman, and there's no use pretendin'
that you are. Some day when I have a couple of hours to myself, I'll
explain the whole matter to you. There isn't any cliff, and the house
wants paintin' and looks like thunder. Isn't that reason enough to go
on with? Now, Mr. Maxwell, you come in and make yourself perfectly at
home."

[Illustration]

CHAPTER II

GOSSIP

That afternoon Maxwell occupied himself in unpacking his trunks and
arranging his room. As the finishing touch, he drew out of a leather
case an exquisite miniature of a beautiful girl, which he placed on
the mantelpiece, and at which he gazed for a long time with a wistful
light in his fine gray eyes. Then he threw himself on the lounge, and
pulling a letter from his inner pocket, read:

"Don't worry about expenses, dear. Six hundred is quite enough for
two; we shall be passing rich! You must remember that, although I am a
'college girl,' I am not a helpless, extravagant creature, and I know
how to economize. I am sure we shall be able to make both ends meet.
With a small house, rent free, a bit of ground for a vegetable garden,
and plenty of fresh air, we can accomplish almost anything, and be
supremely happy together. And then, when you win advancement, as of
course you will very soon, we shall appreciate the comforts all the
more from the fact that we were obliged to live the simple life for a
while.

"You can't possibly imagine how I miss you, sweetheart. Do write as
soon as possible and tell me all about Durford. If I could just have
one glimpse of you in your new quarters--but that would only be a
wretched aggravation; so I keep saying to myself 'Some day, some day,'
and try to be patient. God bless you and good-by."

* * * * *

Donald folded the letter carefully, kissed it, and tucked it away in
his pocket. Clasping his hands behind his head, he gazed at the
ceiling.

"I wonder if I'd better tell Mrs. Burke about Betty. I don't care to
pass myself off as a free man in a parish like this. And yet, after
all, it's none of their business at present. I think I'd better wait
and find out if there's any possibility of making her happy here."

There was a knock at the door.

"Talk of angels," murmured Maxwell, and hurriedly returned the
miniature to