Mr. Bays had been in Indianapolis for several days. He had not raised the three thousand dollars, Williams, Sr., being at that time short of money. Mrs. Bays and Tom had that evening driven to town to meet the nominal head of the house. It was two o'clock when Sukey left Rita gazing into the fire and computing the minutes till evening, when she knew Dic would be with her. He might possibly come over for supper. The weather was cold, and snow had been falling since noon. The sycamore log was under the snow, and she did not hope to have Dic to herself; but to have him at all would be joy sufficient, and she would dream of him until he should come. While dreaming, she turned her face toward the window to watch the falling snow. She did not see the snow, but instead saw a man. She did not scream with delight, as I suppose she should have done; she simply rose to her feet and waited in the fireplace till the door opened and Dic walked in. She did not go to him, but stood motionless till he came to her. "Are you not glad to see me, Rita?" he asked. He could not see her eyes in the dark room, or he would have had no need to ask. "Are you not glad?" he repeated. She did not answer, but taking his face between her hands drew it down to hers with infinite tenderness and passion. Then, with her arms about his neck, she spoke the one word, "Glad?" and Dic knew. After she had uttered the big word of one syllable, she buried her face on his breast and began to weep. "Don't cry, Rita," pleaded Dic, "don't cry. I can't bear it." "Ah, but let me cry for one little moment," she begged. "It is better than laughing, and it helps me so much." There was, of course, but one answer, and Dic, turning up her tear-stained face, replied eloquently. After a chaotic period of several minutes they took their childhood's place upon the hearth log within the warm, bright fireplace. Dic stirred the fire, and the girl, nestling beside him, said:-- "Now tell me everything." "Where shall I begin?" asked Dic; and after a pause in which to find a starting-point, he said:-- "I have brought you a little present. I wanted to keep it till to-morrow--Christmas--but I find I cannot." He produced a small gold watch with the word "Rita" engraved upon the lid. Rita was delighted; but after a moment or two of admiration she repeated her request. Dic rapidly ran over the events of his trip. He had brought home twenty-six hundred dollars, and the gold was at that moment in Billy Little's iron-box. Of the wonders he had seen he would tell her at leisure. He had received her three letters, and had them in his pocket in a small leather case purchased expressly to hold them. They had never left his person. He had been ill at an inn near Wheeling, and was "out of his head" for three weeks; hence his failure to write during that time. "Yes, Sukey told me you had been ill. I was sorry to learn it. Especially--especially from her," said the girl, with eyes bent demurely upon the hearth.