Archie laid to his soul the flattering unction that Abijah was jealous. Justification of this suspicion was supported by the bridegroom's sudden anxiety to depart out of Vermont with the utmost expedition. Archie had every intention of ordering as gorgeous a breakfast as Bennington's best hotel could provide, but Abijah promptly vetoed this suggestion and they ate at a lunch counter, which Archie found a most disagreeable proceeding. Abijah left Sally and Archie eating scrambled eggs while he set forth to acquire information about trains. He returned while they were still at the counter to report that a train was almost immediately available. His haste annoyed Archie, who hated being hurried at his meals. At the station Abijah hung about the baggage-room, where he had no business whatever, as though trying to create the impression that he was traveling alone. When the train came along he climbed into the smoker with his own bag, leaving Archie to assist Sally into the chair car. "Abijah's just a little afraid pop might have telephoned, you know, or be coming after us. He'll move in here when the train starts." "I don't like to leave you like this," said Archie mournfully. "Oh, it will be all right," Sally answered bravely. "Abijah's nervous; that's all. That was certainly some ride we had last night. I hope you'll go up to the hotel now and get a good sleep." "Oh, I'll look out for that," Archie replied. His arrears of sleep did not trouble him; but the thought of losing Sally broke his heart. The hard night ride had left no traces on her face. Her cheeks were aglow and her eyes were bright. When he said again, a little tremulously, that he hated to leave her he had never made a more honest statement in his life. "I suppose we'll hardly meet again," he said with a dejection which he hoped would elicit a promise of further meetings. "I'm afraid it will be a long, long time before I see you," she said with a lingering tenderness and wistfulness. "I hope you're going to be very happy, Sally. And I shall think of you always as you were last night. I shall never forget our talk by the brook." "Neither shall I," she murmured. Her lashes were wonderful; not till that moment had he done justice to her lashes. "I want to give you a little present--something you can hide away to make sure you are not embarrassed in any way until you get settled. I wish it were gold, but you won't mind. You understand, don't you, Sally?" He always carried a five-hundred-dollar bill against emergencies and this he had clung to through all his adventures. He now produced it from his inner waistcoat pocket and slipped it into her hand. Her brow clouded for an instant; then she smiled radiantly. "I oughtn't to take it; but I know you mean it all right. It's dear of you," and her tone and the immeasurable kindness of her eyes were easily worth five hundred dollars.