nice night, isn't it? I came over
here to get a quiet smoke and let those fellows subside a bit. I could
not stand their noise, and the place is stifling."

"I'm afraid so. I'm so sorry we have to put you there; but you know--"

"Oh, of course! I don't mind a bit. It is hot indoors, wherever you
are. If it were not for the mosquitoes, it would be nice to sleep in
hammocks under the trees this weather." "I have often thought so. I
can't breathe shut up. Rose is in my room tonight, and she seems like a
whole crowd. I had to come out to cool myself." "And to get your book.
What book was it?" "The--er--Clough's poems." "How many copies have
you?--because one of them has been in my pocket for two days."

"Well, I don't want it. Good-night!"

She put out her hand. He took it and held it. The moonlight now was
very bright, but not bright enough to reveal his smile or her blush.
However, neither could be hidden from the second sight of love. "Don't
go yet, Debbie. I never get a word with you these days, you are so
taken up with all sorts of people. And you haven't had time to get cool
yet. I know you haven't--by the feel of your hand."

She tried to withdraw it, but did not try very hard.

"My dear boy," she trembled, "do you know what time it is? It must be
simply ALL hours."

"What does that matter? We are not keeping anybody up." "And there's
tomorrow to be considered. Christmas Eve is always such a busy,
tiring--"

"Sufficient for the day. Let us take things as we can get them.
Besides, you will sleep all the better for it. Five minutes more or
less--"

He pulled gently but firmly at the imprisoned hand. "Well, just five
minutes--although it's really--"

She was drawn down to the bench beside him, and the man in the moon, as
he looked into their shining, happy eyes, seemed to wink knowingly.

"Oh, Debbie, isn't it a heavenly night? Oh, Debbie!" His arms went
round her, and she simply melted into them. "Oh, my love!..."

Five minutes! It ran to an hour and a half before she scudded across
the lawn to bed.

And it was Mary, the busy housekeeper, who, on her busiest day, drove
to the station to meet Guthrie Carey and the baby, and the baby's cheap
and temporary child-nurse.

Mary, though she was not Deb, was too sweet and good for words. She put
the little hired girl on the front seat with the groom, and sat in the
body of the waggonette to talk to Guthrie and to take care of his
child. There was no awkward