Roddy closed the door quietly. She stood for a moment staring at its blank surface, then turned and ran up the steps and into her own room. Her white muslin curtains waved in the cold wind. She went to a window and leaned on its sill, listening to Roddy's going. There was no gay whistle by which to track him down the mountain to-night; only a poignant rustle of dead leaves in the path. Arlie had her arm hard across her breast as if something hurt her there, but she would n't give in. She still said to herself:

"ARLIE 's going back to town next week," said Mary to Roddy a few days later. She went on vexedly: "You've just spoiled everything. Roddy. Why could n't you let Arlie alone, with a county full of girls?"

Roddy had dropped into a dull middle place of misery since that odd evening at Arlie's. He said tonelessly to Mary that Arlie need not go away on his account, and forced himself up the mountain, meaning to tell her so. But a short distance from home he met Arlie and Wilsy out for the mail and a walk.

"Come over on my island," he said, his spirits rising at the mere sight of Arlie in a blue hood; "we can cross on the ice. It 's jolly inside the willows, all flat snow, and rabbit-tracks scurrying where they 've danced in the moonlight." He smiled at Wilsy.

"You'll be telling us fairy-stories next," said Wilsy.

"Well," said Roddy, "if there were a little Blue Riding Hood, Arlie would look just like her."

"Is there a wolf on your island?" asked Arlie, her spirits rising, too, with the sun and Roddy.

"There'll be nothing but a—a lamb,” said Roddy, reassuringly.

Wilsy, who had her kodak along, wandered away, Arlie and Roddy following in a sort of snatched, desperate happiness. High up on a tiny bluff above the river showed the cottage that had been

"Say it, you idiot!" ordered Roddy to himself. He stood still, hands in pocket. "Arlie," he said, "when I met you I was coming up to tell you that you don't need to run from me. I won't bother you again. Don't cut short your vacation. If you do that, I'll feel like a dog."

Arlie, too, was standing still, pulling nervously at her hood ribbons.

"You'll stay, won't you?" asked Roddy; "Wilsy would be so lonesome without you."

Arlie stole a baffled look at Roddy. She did not know whether that speech of Roddy's was deep, deep man's wisdom or a bit of boyish stupidity.

She said that she would stay-for Wilsy. "That's a good girl!" said Roddy.

He felt that he dared touch her now that he had given her up. There was a dear look about Roddy's eyes and lips as he guided Arlie, like a calm brother, over the rough ice between island and shore. He was trying so achingly hard to be unselfish, and he had never loved Arlie so much, or shown to his own mind how much he did love her, as at that moment when Arlie was thinking that Roddy must be getting over loving her, and, that being so, there was of course no need to run

away from him. Her arm grew rigid in his respectful grasp. Presently she drew it away, and said she could get along

now.

ARLIE wore one of her blue uniform dresses. A bushel-basket of red winter apples stood on the kitchen floor by her.

to

bell to Roddy as she passed through on her way the smoke-house, "making apple-butter in March! It's all these crazy girls."

Wilsy was excited over the apple-butter boiling, even though it could not be, as was picturesque and proper, held out of doors, since one could not count on March weather.

and to Dr. Wayne, all three of whom came up later in the day.

The visiting girl was a slim, provocative girl, with cloudy black hair, and, in its shadow, delicate oval cheeks the red of

She could not believe all those barrels of peeled apples could be needed for even so gigantic a kettle as Chard was at that moment swinging on the crane in the kitchen fireplace-a fireplace of which it was no exaggeration to aver that it stretched clear across the room. Nor could she take seriously all those pounds of sugar and spices, or all those gallons of sweet cider, or ever believe there would be sufficient apple-butter to fill all those brown crocks Mrs. Campbell was bringing across from the smoke-house for purposes of sunning and airing.

Being there, Roddy stayed, and Arlie telephoned to Mary and her visiting girl

an Indian pink. Arlie detested her at first sight, but was extra nice to her for that very reason; and Roddy, who thought Arlie must have taken a fancy to her, felt rather astonished. He disliked Miss Palmer's style himself; but, as she was a visiting girl,

he played with her out of pure polite

kept saying to himself that he had, as if he were in danger of forgetting it. She always pretended not to see him looking at her.

He understood at last that, though she would n't have him herself, she could n't bear to see another girl getting him even in play. It is only given to angels to be consistently good. A perverse devil took residence in Roddy. He devoted himself openly and outrageously to Miss Palmer. When she declared herself wearied of stirring, he popped corn for her at one corner of the big fireplace, Arlie watching scornfully. Afterward they carried a bowl of pop-corn to a secluded bench, and sat

there, heads together, Miss Palmer holding the bowl, Roddy leaning over and helping himself, with her assistance, and gazing ardently up into her face.

He did not look at Arlie again; but this only gave her the better opportunity to look at him. From where she ranged brown crocks on a table she could see that brazen girl making a dead set at Roddy. Arlie was almost certain she had got Roddy to holding her hand in the shadow there. Roddy was wheedling her for all he was worth. Well Arlie knew that pleading tilt of chin, that laughing crinkle of eye-corners. She clattered two crocks together inadvertently. This attracted Miss Palmer's attention, and she called insolently, it seemed to Arlie:

"Don't work so hard, Miss Campbell. Do come help us finish this pop-corn."

Out of bravado Arlie went and sat down by Miss Palmer; but she regretted doing it the next instant. She was much too indignant to act naturally. She had a ramrod down her throat. The handful of little white kernels scorched her palm, so that she crushed them as she held them. "You 've spoiled those," said Roddy to her, kindly; "have some more."

."Oh, I must go now," she said, springing to her feet in too great a hurry to convey the idea of a perfectly poised young

person.

Miss Palmer, who was innocent of other intention than the natural one of amusing herself as well as possible with a good-looking young man, gazed after Arlie in some surprise.

"What a nervous girl she is!" she said to Roddy.

"Not usually," said Roddy, becoming violently ashamed of himself; "but she 's home resting up after a slight breakdown. Arlie's a nurse, you know. There's the kettle coming off, or, rather; the fire 's getting put out under it. over?"

Shall we go

But this was the dull part of the business, and the youngsters soon tired of watching Mrs. Campbell's endless dip in kettle and pour in crock. It was nearly morning, and some one proposed that they

all go out on the porch and watch the day break. Miss Palmer said she must get her coat. A moment later Roddy came up to where Wilsy and Wayne were standing together in the confusing dawn light. He Isaid to them both:

"Amuse Miss Palmer for me when she comes out."

He plunged down the steps, and vanished just as Miss Palmer appeared, looking confidently about her.

Wayne pushed a porch-chair forward. "You 've treated the rest of us very shabbily, Miss Palmer," said Wayne, reproachfully. He gently and firmly put her in the chair. Wilsy perched on one arm of it, and talked volubly concerning the novel experience of apple-butter boiling. Miss Palmer, in some bewilderment, responded inadequately, and kept looking about her for Roddy.

But Roddy, who had gone off headlong after glimpsing that pale blur down by the creek, had already forgotten that such a young person as Miss Palmer existed. He knew Arlie's favorite wood road, and crossed the creek into it. He kept thinking he heard her. out his arms. He was

there by a big tree.

Once he put sure she was

"Arlie," he called softly, then went on. He stopped where four ways met. One led to the house, one to the top of the mountain, one to a forest clearing, one to a little spring where they often strolled. He had taken a step toward the spring when Arlie stood, as noiseless as a sunbeam, at his elbow. She really had hidden behind that tree to let Roddy get ahead of her.

"Oh," said Arlie, airily, "are you having a walk to get your eyes open, too?"

"Arlie," said Roddy in a half-whisper, "I know a hollow full of arbutus just over here."

"Not really?" said Arlie, breathlessly. "It's too early:"

"It's a sheltered place," said Roddy, leading the way, "and it 's been so warm this week."

Once it was steep and rough, and he took Arlie's hand to help her down.

When they gained the hollow he was still holding Arlie's hand. He continued to hold it as he dropped to his knees to part the drift of dead leaves. A fragrance fresher and more delicious than any other in the world streamed up past Roddy to Arlie.

"O Roddy!" she cried in ravishment, for he had uncovered the sleeping face of the spring.

She impulsively stooped, her free arm sliding around Roddy's neck as she did so. He put up his hand to hold hers there.

"You see," said Roddy, straightening up on his knees, "you can't help it either, Arlie."

Arlie did not answer. She gazed off into the distance, seeing herself at Cedarcliff forever. Forever is a long time when you have wings. It is spring and summer and autumn and winter, and then spring again.

"I know I 've broken my word to you," said Roddy, "but I'd have kept it, on my love for you, Arlie, if I could think you'd be happier without me.”

There was no color about Arlie except the brightness of her hair and the frightened sapphire of her eyes. She knew she was about to be caught.

"But you could n't be," said Roddy. "Why, we belong to each other. You could n't be, could you?"

Roddy was pale, too, so much of Arlie was an unknown quantity to him as well as to herself. Could she free herself of him? Would she vanish, as a bird, beating its way out, though torn by the broken pane of escape?

"Could you?" asked Roddy again. His eyes kept on asking it.

When she still did not answer he let go her hands very slowly.

But she snatched his hand back. She held it to her breast. She could not, oh, she could not!

Roddy half turned on his knees, and laid his cheek against their clasped hands.

Never had Arlie had any mere thing, any trifle which she could crumple up in her hand, more wholly hers than Roddy was hers at that moment.

It was such a morning as often comes that far south in early April, a warm wind blowing in gusts, a noticeable bird or two, a flush of red bud and fruit-blossom over the valley since the night before, the sun lighting up the tall pines along the ridges to be candles on the altar of the spring, young people sitting on the porch steps at Campbells' as if it were a summer morning.

Mary and Geoff had ridden up for a ride; Arlie and Roddy had just come in from a reminiscent stroll to the hollow of arbutus; Wilsy, be it confessed, had just got out of bed. She was still blinking her eyes at the sun. She had n't even had her breakfast. Dr.

Wayne had stopped in the evening before, merely a friendly call, and had kept his patient up until a most preposterous hour.

Arlie sat by Roddy with a look of pure content in her eyes. For once that restless heart of Arlie's was stilled. She gazed across the miles at the little cottage on the tiny bluff above the river, and felt that, after all, her moment of forever was too short for love and happiness. It was all so sweet, so much sweeter than Arlie in her native independence had ever imagined it could be. She thought with a smile of Roddy's oak that he wanted to be like. She would strike roots, too; nor should the fir-tree's foolish longing for the unknown ever trouble her. She would grow tall and beautiful with Roddy in their own place, and together they would feel streaming through heart and brain the great, free currents of emotion and thought from elsewhere.