n of a
violin when a string is touched.

"Seems to me we were married that day. Seems so, every time I think of
it, God asked me all the questions an' I answered yes to 'em. Do ye
remember after we had kissed each other how that little bird sang?"

"Yes."

We had faced about and were walking back toward Canton, I close by the
pony's side.

"May I kiss you again?"

She stopped the pony and leaned toward me and our lips met in a kiss the
thought of which makes me lay down my pen and bow my head a moment while
I think with reverence of that pure, sweet spring of memory in whose
waters I love to wash my spirit.

We walked on and a song sparrow followed us perching on the fence-rails
and blessing us with his song.

"I guess God has married us again," I declared.

"I knew that you were walking on this road and I had to see you," said
she. "People have been saying such terrible things."

"What?"

"They say your uncle found the pocketbook that was lost and kept the
money. They say he was the first man that went up the road after it was
lost."

Now The Thing stood uncovered before me in all its ugliness--The Thing
born not of hate but of the mere love of excitement in people wearied by
the dull routine and the reliable, plodding respectability of that
countryside. The crime of Amos had been a great help in its way but as a
topic it was worn out and would remain so until court convened.

"It's a lie--my uncle never saw the pocketbook. Some money was left to
him by a relative in Vermont. That's how it happened that he bought a
farm instead of going to the poorhouse when Grimshaw put the screws on
him."

"I knew that your uncle didn't do it," she went on. "Father and mother
couldn't tell you. So I had to."

"Why couldn't your father and mother tell me?"

"They didn't dare. Mr. Grimshaw made them promise that they would not
speak to you or to any of your family. I heard them say that you and
your uncle did right. Father told mother that he never knew a man so
honest as your Uncle Peabody."

We went on in silence for a moment.

"I guess you know now why I couldn't let you go home with me that
night," she remarked.

"Yes, and I think I know why you wouldn't have anything more to do with
Henry Wills."

"I hate him. He said such horrid things about you and your uncle."

In a moment she asked: "What time is it?"

I looked at my new watch and answered: "It wants ten minutes of five."

"The stage is in long a