"Yes," Sally replied, still with that compression of the lips, "he is." She had been about to say more, but had thought better of it. "Well," said Patty, after waiting some time for Sally to say what she had decided not to, "thank you, Sally. Nobody else could attend to it so well as you." At which speech Sally smiled rather grimly, if a girl of seventeen can smile grimly. Her smile was as grim as the circumstances would allow. She found Charlie suspiciously near the door. "Will you go and see old Mac, Sally? Will you?" "You come into the back parlor with me, Charlie," Sally answered, "and I'll tell you what I'll do." When Charlie emerged, half an hour later, he was sulkier than ever, but he was no longer triumphant. Sally went back to school that same night. Patty did not summon her again. Sally had a way of settling things which Miss Patty did not altogether like. Now it chanced that Jane chose the next day for one of his visits. It was not a happy chance. The day itself was dull and gloomy and chilly and Sally had not yet got over the settling of Charlie. Jane, to be sure, did not know about Charlie, but it would have made no difference if he had known about him. Sally greeted him with no enthusiasm; it almost seemed to Jane that she would rather not have seen him. He looked at her in surprise. "What's the matter, Sally?" he asked. "Why this--this apathy?" He had been about to call it indifference, but decided against it. Jane was not without wisdom, if he did not show much of it on this particular day. If it had been the case of another and that other had asked his advice, he would have advised him to drop it all and go home again. But, in our own cases, we are all more or less fools. Therefore Jane did not drop it all and go home. Sally did not smile. "I don't know, Jane," she replied. "There's nothing in particular the matter." Sally had given up the attempt to break the Jane habit and Jane had given up objecting. "Well?" he asked, after waiting vainly for her to propose a walk. "Shall we go for our usual walk? You know you don't like to stay in, and neither do I." "I think," said Sally, "that I don't like anything to-day, so what does it matter?" Surely Jane should have taken warning and run. "We'll go out if you like." Jane looked at her doubtfully, but said nothing, which was probably the best thing he could have said; and they went out, walking side by side, in silence, until they came to a little stream which was dignified by the name of "The River." There was a path along the bank. That path by the river was much frequented at other seasons, but now the trees that overhung it were bare and the wind sighed mournfully through the branches, after its journey across the desolate marsh beyond. On such a day it was not a place to cheer drooping spirits. It did not cheer Sally's. Jane's spirit began to be affected. He looked at Sally anxiously, but she gave no sign of ever meaning to say another word. "Sally!" he said.