"Do you remember when I went to the war, Indiana? You gave me a lock of your hair, and I carried it over my heart. It was a charm, a little yellow lock—it brought me back to you alive. You cried when you gave it to me, and said, ’God keep you, Glen!’" "And I say it now! Wherever we both happen to be, until I die, ’God keep you, Glen!’" She broke down, and sobbed on his breast. He smoothed her hair mechanically, murmuring, "A little yellow lock—I carried it over my heart, always. They might have found it if I hadn’t come back. I wish that I hadn’t, now—I wish that I hadn’t!" "Glen! What are you saying?" She held her hand over his mouth. "We’ll go on just the same; you mustn’t say anything to the others. We’ll keep our own secret, and you’ll come to the camp this August?" "It’ll never be the same," repeated Glen, monotonously. Suddenly they heard the sound of wheels, and Stillwater’s voice shouting to Jim Tuttle. "I must be getting home," said Glen stupidly, like a person just awakened from sleep. "Why, aren’t you going to the circus, Glen?" "Circus?" "Don’t break up the party!" "All right, Indiana." It was not a merry circus party, as far as the younger members were concerned, but the others were lively, and failed to see anything strange in their behaviour. Indiana asked someone to dare her to jump down in the ring, and ride better than the lady equestrian, but they all wisely refrained from doing so. Glen sat in the center of the wagon and tinkled his mandolin faithfully, for the amusement of the party. They dropped him at his own gate, to which they drove, singing hilariously, Kitty bringing up the rear in a buggy with Jim Tuttle. "Hello, neighbor Stillwater!" called a voice from one of the farm-house windows. "It’s father," said Glen. "Hello, Masters!" "Is this what you call ’rest and quiet?’" "Well, I don’t believe in too much of a good thing; good-night." "Good-night; good luck to you all." "Merrily we roll along," sang Mrs. Bunker. Glen leaned against the gate after they had gone, listening to their voices in the distance. "Have a good time, Glen?" "Yes, father!" The window closed. Glen laughed bitterly, leaning against the gate; then the laugh changed to a sob. "I don’t want much, I ask so little, dear God; _only Indiana_." *CHAPTER V.* *Camp Indiana.* "I’m tired of the model farm. I wouldn’t care to spend another spring here." "Indiana, your love of change will bode you no good, some day." "I come by it honestly, Grandma Chazy—you’re always on the go." "Don’t compare yourself to me, Indiana. I’m an old woman." "You’d be hopping mad, if anyone else called you that." "I can take a privilege which I wouldn’t allow to others," said Mrs. Bunker, sweetly. "I mean I’m an old woman compared to you, Indiana; I have experience and discretion, to back up my roving spirit." "Em—n!" said Indiana.