“Honey shall have his supper,” Agnes told him, and she carried him into the house to have his mush and milk with the other children. Then she crept to her loft room. From the window she could see that Parker was still leaning on the fence. Behind the hills the sun was setting in a gorgeous sky. The willows emerging from the late waste of waters showed their first tender green; the hylos piped shrilly. Agnes’s heart throbbed painfully. A beautiful world, and out of troubles sometimes arise blessings. She heard Jimmy’s cheerful voice below relating adventures to her father whose pleased smile she fancied she could see. “I am lonely, lonely,” cried the girl. She arose from her little stool by the window and, with a sudden resolve, clambered down the ladder. Polly had stowed all the babies away in the trundle-bed, and the four were fast asleep. “Where are you going, Nancy?” Polly asked. “Out to smell the spring,” was the answer, as the girl shut the door behind her. She followed the path uphill to the top. Before she reached the figure standing there she paused. The glory of the sky was to be seen more plainly here. From the hollow below one might imagine the day to be done, but here one could see that rosy clouds swept across the sky and the yellow light along the horizon still shone clearly. Conscious of her presence, Parker turned suddenly. She came and stood by his side. “One sees things more distinctly from a height,” he said musingly. “Yes, it is quite dark indoors. I was so lonely and I--I saw you here by yourself. You will be lonely, too, so often now, for you are going away--you are going away.” There was a little catch in her voice, and the man at her side put forth his hand and took hers, cold and trembling, in his. Agnes looked up. His touch brought comfort. “I’m not going to be a minister’s wife,” she said, her lips quivering. “I could never be.” “Oh, little girl, little girl,” he said softly, “how did you know so well what to come and tell me? I was lonely, too, as lonely as you were, but I am older, much older, and one must bear those things. It is harder than you know for me to go away, but it is best. A man must make his own home.” “Yes,” faltered Agnes, “I know.” “But I’ll come back.” “You said sometimes, only sometimes.” “I mean very often.” He looked down at her but checked the word that rose to his lips. “It would not be fair,” he told himself. “I have my way to make,” he said aloud, “and there are some things, some ties there at home, you know, some things that in honor I cannot forget.” “Yes.” It was all that Agnes could say, but she was comforted beyond words, and the glory of the west was reflected on the face of each as they turned from the hilltop toward the little cabin nestled in the shadows at the foot of the hill. CHAPTER X HONEY