t went, with the face I had on me.

I was just getting comfortably miserable when I heard a step behind me,
and my heart gave a jump. And I gave a start too.

'Oh, is that you, Mr Wilson?' said a timid little voice.

'Yes,' I said. 'Is that you, Mary?'

And she said yes. It was the first time I called her Mary, but she did
not seem to notice it.

'Did I frighten you?' I asked.

'No--yes--just a little,' she said. 'I didn't know there was any
one----' then she stopped.

'Why aren't you dancing?' I asked her.

'Oh, I'm tired,' she said. 'It was too hot in the wool-shed. I thought
I'd like to come out and get my head cool and be quiet a little while.'

'Yes,' I said, 'it must be hot in the wool-shed.'

She stood looking out over the willows. Presently she said, 'It must be
very dull for you, Mr Wilson--you must feel lonely. Mr Barnes said----'
Then she gave a little gasp and stopped--as if she was just going to put
her foot in it.

'How beautiful the moonlight looks on the willows!' she said.

'Yes,' I said, 'doesn't it? Supposing we have a stroll by the river.'

'Oh, thank you, Mr Wilson. I'd like it very much.'

I didn't notice it then, but, now I come to think of it, it was a
beautiful scene: there was a horseshoe of high blue hills round behind
the house, with the river running round under the slopes, and in front
was a rounded hill covered with pines, and pine ridges, and a soft blue
peak away over the ridges ever so far in the distance.

I had a handkerchief over the worst of my face, and kept the best side
turned to her. We walked down by the river, and didn't say anything for
a good while. I was thinking hard. We came to a white smooth log in a
quiet place out of sight of the house.

'Suppose we sit down for a while, Mary,' I said.

'If you like, Mr Wilson,' she said.

There was about a foot of log between us.

'What a beautiful night!' she said.

'Yes,' I said, 'isn't it?'

Presently she said, 'I suppose you know I'm going away next month, Mr
Wilson?'

I felt suddenly empty. 'No,' I said, 'I didn't know that.'

'Yes,' she said, 'I thought you knew. I'm going to try and get into the
hospital to be trained for a nurse, and if that doesn't come off I'll
get a place as assistant public-school teacher.'

We didn't say anything for a good while.

'I suppose you won't be sorry to go, Miss Brand?' I said.

'I--I don't know,' she said. 'Everybody's been so kind to me here.'

She sat lookin