She did not run far. For one of the high-heeled slippers just curled up under her and she went down, sobbing "David--David." And she kept sobbing just that over and over even after David had picked her up and folded her safe in his arms. He tried to soothe her and explained that he had missed her, had guessed that she would try to get home alone down this road and so took the short cut in order to catch up with her and make sure that she got home safely. He never dreamed of frightening her so, but she was safe with him now and there was absolutely nothing to fear. "But my foot, David. It's swelling. I can feel it--and it hurts." David took off the little slipper and put it in his pocket. Then he told her not to worry because he could carry her home easily enough. But first he sat down with her on an old stone wall and talked to her until the last sob died away and her head nestled gratefully on his big comfortable shoulder. "Jocelyn," he asked presently, "are you still angry with me?" She shook her head. "I've never been angry with you, David. But I thought you didn't want to be bothered any longer with a silly girl like me and so--I tried to help and be sensible." "I know. I was crazy that day you rode through town with the minister. I had no right--" "Oh,"--she raised her head and looked at him in shy wonder and shocked relief, "oh, David--was it that--you were hurt at that?" For answer he gently drew her close to him. "But David, I didn't go riding with the minister. I was just taking a little pig home that a boy cousin of mine, who loves to tease me, sent me. I didn't know anything about pigs and the minister happened to be there and helped. He meant no harm." "Oh, I know, Jocelyn. But he is such a wonderful man. Only another man, I guess, can know what a fine chap he is. And I thought if he did like you I couldn't stand in your way. I found out, of course, that I was mistaken. The minister doesn't care anything about girls. But that wasn't all. You know, Jocelyn, I'm Uncle Roger's own nephew but I bear his name because he legally gave it to me and because I have no name of my own. I was a fatherless baby and a girl like you ought to be courted by a better man than I am." It was costing David Allan something to tell the girl in his arms all that. She guessed how the telling must hurt the boy, for she stopped it with a little, tender laugh. "But, David dear, I knew all that the day you took me to the Decoration Day exercises. Grandma Wentworth told me. She said she knew you'd likely tell me yourself some day but she said that she liked you and she noticed that people who liked you always liked you a little better after they heard that." He sat still, overwhelmed with her sweetness. Then, "Jocelyn, is it only liking?" Her answer came like a soft note of joy. "No, David. It's something bigger than liking and when you wouldn't speak to me that afternoon you darkened all my world."