She liked the boy to learn habits of politeness, she said, and his father eagerly proffered his escort, waving aside Mrs. Mortimer's protest that she would not think of troubling Mr. Harry; throughout which conversation Harry said nothing at all, but stood smiling, with his hat in his hand, the picture of an obedient, well-mannered youth. There are generally two ways anywhere, and there were two from the Sterlings' to the Mortimers': the short one through the village, and the long one round by the lane and across the Church meadow. The path diverging to the latter route comes very soon after you leave the Sterlings', and not a word had passed when Mrs. Mortimer and Harry reached it. Still without a word, Harry turned off to follow the path. Mrs. Mortimer glanced at him; Harry smiled. "It's much longer," she said. "There's lots of time," rejoined Harry, "and it's such a jolly night." The better to enjoy the night's beauty, he slackened his pace to a very crawl. "It's rather dark; won't you take my arm?" he said. "What nonsense! Why, I could see to read!" "But I'm sure you're tired." "How absurd you are! Was it a great bore?" "What?" "Why, coming." "No," said Harry. In such affairs monosyllables are danger signals. A long protestation might have meant nothing: in this short, sufficient negative Mrs. Mortimer recognized the boy's sincerity. A little thrill of pride and shame, and perhaps something else, ran through her. The night was hot and she unfastened the clasp of her cloak, breathing a trifle quickly. To relieve the silence, she said, with a laugh: "You see we poor married women have to depend on charity. Our husbands don't care to walk home with us. Your father was bent on your coming." Harry laughed a short laugh; the utter darkness of Mr. Sterling's condition struck through his agitation down to his sense of humor. Mrs. Mortimer smiled at him; she could not help it: the secret between them was so pleasant to her, even while she hated herself for its existence. They had reached the meadow now, halfway through their journey. A little gate led into it and Harry stopped, leaning his arm on the top rail. "Oh, no! we must go on," she murmured. "They won't move for an hour yet," he answered, and then he suddenly broke out: "How--how funny it is! I hardly remembered you, you know." "Oh, but I remembered you, a pretty little boy;" and she looked up at his face, half a foot above her. Mere stature has much effect and the little boy stage seemed very far away. And he knew that it did, for he put out his hand to take hers. She drew back. "No," she said. Harry blushed. She took hold of the gate and he, yielding his place, let her pass through. For a minute or two they walked on in silence. "Oh, how silly you are!" she cried then, beginning with a laugh and ending with a strange catch in her throat. "Why, you're only just out of knickerbockers!" "I don't care, I don't care, Hilda----"