When old Sam Wiggett drove away from in front of the post office, little imagining David had just counteracted all the baseless gossip that had threatened him, Mary placed her hand on his arm and urged him to turn back, but cold common sense urged him to drive on. He did not want to be known as having seen any of the tragedy, for he did not relish having to enter a witness chair. Had he turned back as Mary wished David's whole life might have been different, and certainly his end would have been. Once safely home Mary did not hesitate to write to David. Whatever else she may have been, and however old Sam's wealth had affected her mode of thought, Mary was sincere, and she now wrote David she was sorry and asked him to come to her. It was too late. With 'Thusia David walked up the hill. At the gate of the manse they paused. They had spoken of nothing but the tragedy. “Rose Hinch will be all alone now,” 'Thusia said. “Yes,” David said. 'Thusia looked down. “Do you--will she get work,” she asked, “or is she going to marry someone.” “I know she is not going to marry,” David said promptly. “She knows no one--no young men.” “Except you,” 'Thusia suggested, looking up. As she met David's dear eyes her face reddened as it had on that first day at the wharf. The hand that lay on the gate trembled visibly; she withdrew it and hid it at her side. “I like Rose, but I am not a candidate for her hand, if that is what you mean,” said David. 'Thusia suddenly felt infinitely silly and childish. “I mean--I don't mean--” she stammered. “I must not keep you standing here. Good-by.” “Good-by,” David said, and turned away. He took a dozen steps up the path toward the manse. He stopped short and turned. “'Thusia!” he called. “Yes?” she replied, and turned back. David walked to the gate and leaned upon it. “What is it,” 'Thusia asked. “You asked about Rose Hinch. I think we should try to do something for her--” 'Thusia's eyes were on David's hands. Now David's hands and not 'Thusia's were trembling. She watched them as if fascinated. She looked up and the light in his eyes thrilled her. “'Thusia, I know now!” David said. “I love you and I have always loved you and I shall love you forever.” Her heart stood still. “David! but we had better wait. We had better think it over,” she managed to say. “You had better--you're the dominie--I--” “Don't you care for met” he asked. She put her hand on his and David clasped it. Kisses 'and embraces usually help carry off a moment that can hardly be anything but awkward, but kisses and embraces are distinctly impossible across a dominie's manse gate in full day, with the Mannings on their porch across the street. 'Thusia laughed a mischievous little laugh. “What!” David asked. “I'll be the funniest wife for a dominie!” she said. “Oh, David, do you think I'll do!”