Sunday afternoon Dic saw Sukey at church and rode home with her, resting that evening upon her ciphering log. He had determined to tell her that he would marry her; but despite his desire to end the suspense, he could not bring himself to speak the words. He allowed her to believe, by inference, what she chose, and she, though still in great doubt, felt that the important question was almost settled in her favor. During the interim of four or five days Billy Little secretly called upon Miss Tousy, and incidentally dropped in to see Rita. After discussing matters of health and weather, Billy said: "Rita, you must not be too hard on Dic. He was not to blame. Sukey is a veritable little Eve, and--" "Billy Little, I am sorry to hear you place the blame on Sukey. I suppose Dic tells you she was to blame." "By Jove! I've made a nice mess of it," muttered Billy. "No, Dic blames himself entirely, but I know whereof I speak. That girl is in love with him, and has set this trap to steal him from you and get him for herself. She has been trying for a long time to entrap him, and you are helping her. Dic is a true, pure man, who has been enticed into error and suffers for it. You had better die unmarried than to lose him." "I hope to die unmarried, and I pray that I may die soon," returned Rita with a deep, sad sigh. "No, you'll not die unmarried. You will marry Williams," said Billy, looking earnestly into her eyes. "I shall not." "If you wish to throw Dic over and marry Williams, you should openly avow it, and not seize this misfortune of Dic's as an excuse." "Oh, Billy Little, you don't think me capable of that, do you?" answered Rita, reproachfully. "Do you give me your word you will not marry Williams?" asked Billy, eagerly. "Yes, I give you my word I will not marry him, if--if I can help it," she answered, and poor Billy collapsed. He took his handkerchief from his pocket to dry the perspiration on his face, although the room was cold, and Rita drew forth her handkerchief to dry her tears. "Dic loves you, Rita. He is one man out of ten thousand. He is honest, true, and pure-minded. He has sinned, I know; but he has repented. One sin doesn't make a sinner, and repentance is the market price of mercy. I know a great deal of this world, my girl, and of its men and women, and I tell you Dic is as fine a character as I know. I don't know a man that is his equal. Don't let this one fault condemn him and yourself to wretchedness." "I shall not be wretched," she replied, the picture of woe, "for I don't--don't care for him. I'm surprised, Billy Little, that I do not, and I think less of myself. There must be something wrong about me. I must be wicked when my--my love can turn so easily to indifference. But I do not care for him. He is nothing to me any more. You may be sure I speak the truth and--and although I am glad to have you here, I don't want you to remain if you continue to speak of--of him."