But just then, of course, we were interrupted, and the only other times I got a chance to talk with him was when we were dancing together. That was quite a number of times, because I had him put down three dances for you, and I acted as your substitute. All joking aside, Carin, I saw as much of him as I could because I was determined to find out what he was like. He would have to be so very, very fine to be worthy of you. I can see, my dear, partly from what you say and still more from what you do not say, that this is a serious matter with you. So I dropped all my nonsense and was grave with him, and he was grave with me, and I liked him—Oh, tremendously. He is earnest and ambitious and full of the new time. He doesn’t care any more about family than is right and sensible, and he’s determined to be a fine and successful man on his own account. What is more, he appreciates you, Carin! He does! I wouldn’t rest till I had found out whether he did or not. It is unnecessary to say what a gentleman I think him; and though he is not exactly handsome, he has a manliness and a grace that is even better. Yes, my blessings are all ready for you. Just let me know whenever I am to bestow them. Annie Laurie has a tiny, beautiful little diamond on a thread of gold which she wears on the little finger of her left hand. “Annie Laurie,” I said, “that ring looks as if it had a history. It has a kind of a we’d-better-wait-a-while-before-we-tell-our-friends look.” “Does it, impudent one?” she laughed. “Well, then it looks to be just what it is. Sam gave it to me.” “Good Sam Disbrow,” I said. “He’ll be a fine person to live with—not ashamed in the wrong place nor proud at the wrong time, nor too selfish nor too unselfish—just sensible and reliable and honest straight through.” “He and I understand each other,” said Annie Laurie softly, “perfectly.” “Of course you do. Why shouldn’t you? Haven’t you taken years and years to get acquainted? Tell me, does he ever hear anything of his adopted father, and his family?” “Not a thing,” said she. “Not one thing.” “They just ‘went west.’” “Yes.” “Have you any other news?” Annie Laurie burst out laughing. “Haven’t I, just?” “About whom, then?” “Haystack Thompson. Did you know he was courting Hi Kitchell’s ‘ma’?” “I did. I saw him with a collar on, and no violin. He had combed his hair; and she wore white cotton gloves.” “Well, we all thought it was settled. The only thing that worried us was how Haystack was to care for a wife when he got one. He has always been more or less like Tommy Tucker, singing for his supper—or rather, playing on Betsy, his violin. But for a time the violin had to stay in the background, which made some of us feel rather sad. We hardly liked to have Haystack settle down like other folks and be domestic and regular. But we needn’t have worried.” “No?”