"Nonsense! It's absurd; preposterous. It's positively shocking. Sally, I'm surprised at you." Sally shook her head. "No," she said obstinately, "it's an excellent way to do. You can't say why it isn't. Why, just think, then I should feel that I could come there when I am old or when I break down from overwork. Teachers are apt to break down, I understand, and now, when they do, there seems to be no course open to them but to hire a hearse--if they've saved money enough. Think how much easier I should feel in my mind if Sanderson's Retreat were open to me." And Sally chuckled at the thought. "But Sanderson's Retreat would be open to you in any case," Fox protested. "You would not have to hire a hearse. It is my business to prevent such excursions. Have I ever failed you, Sally?" "Oh, Fox, never." There were tears in her eyes as she got up quickly and almost ran to him. "Never, never, Fox. That is why, don't you see? I want to do something for you, Fox. You have done so much for me--for us." He was standing by the fire. As she came, he held out his hands and she gave him both of hers. Ah! Doctor Sanderson, you are in danger of forgetting your resolution; that resolution which you thought was so wise. In truth, the words trembled on the tip of his tongue. But Sally's "for us" brought him to his senses. "Oh, Sally, Sally!" he said ruefully. "You don't know. You don't know." "Well," Sally replied impatiently, after she had waited in vain for some moments for him to finish, "what don't I know? I don't know everything. I am aware of that, and that is the first step to knowledge." "You come near enough to it," he returned, as if speaking to himself. He was looking down, as he spoke, into great gray eyes which, somehow, were very soft and tender. He looked away. "Sometime you will know." "Everything?" asked Sally, smiling. "Everything that is worth knowing," he answered gently. "Yes, everything that is worth knowing," he repeated, slowly. Sally pondered for a brief instant; then flushed a little, but so little that you would scarcely have noticed it, especially if you had been looking away from her, as Fox was at some pains to do. "We have not settled that question, Fox," she said. He still held her hands, but he scarcely glanced at her. "Fox,"--giving him a gentle shake,--"pay attention and look at me." He looked at her, trying not to let his eyes tell tales. Very likely Sally would think they told of no more than the brotherly affection which she had become used to, from him. Very likely that was what she did think. She gave no sign that she saw more than that, at any rate. "_Please_ let me give them to you," she pleaded, eagerly. "I want to." He shook his head. "Oh, Sally, Sally!" he said again. "It is hard enough to refuse you anything; but I can't let you do this, for your own sake. What would people think?" "Oh, fiddle! What business is it of theirs? And how would they know anything about it?"