Louise came to his relief, and together they succeeded in separating his coat from the chair-back, and he took his ignominious departure. The young girl stood looking after him, until he disappeared around the corner, then she fled to her own room, and into the very depths of her closet, to smother the sound of her hysterical laughter. But when at last she grew quiet, her face became very gentle once more, as she said to herself, in a tone of womanly pity,-- "Poor old man! But at least, I can keep his secret; not even Winthrop shall ever know." In the mean time, the Reverend Gabriel had slowly betaken himself to his lonely room, where he laid aside his hat, and approached the mirror. "No," he said to himself, as he stood gazing at the reflected face before him; "it wouldn't do; it wouldn't do. She's too beautiful; and I'm--too old." And he seated himself in his worn old easy-chair, and took up the book he had laid aside an hour before. CHAPTER XVIII. UNDER ORDERS. It was less than two weeks after the Reverend Gabriel's call upon Louise, that Mr. Burnam came up from his office, one noon, with a letter in his hand. "Well, daught," he called, as Allie ran out to meet him; "where's mamma? I have some news for her." "News! What is it? Nothing very bad, I hope," she answered, as she seized his hand in both of hers, and hurried him towards the house. "That depends," he said laughing. "Wait till we get into the house, and then I'll tell you." "I don't believe it's much of anything," she declared scornfully. "If 'twas, you never could wait to tell us." "We'll see about it," responded her father, as he entered the house. But it was not until they were all seated about the lunch table that he would tell them his news. From the central office of the railway by which he had been employed for the past five years, a letter had come to him, that very morning, offering him the position of consulting engineer for the company, an advance which would bring him much honor and more salary. For a few moments there was a babel of congratulation and rejoicing; then Mrs. Burnam put an end to it all by asking quietly,-- "And when shall we have to leave here?" "Leave?" And Allie turned to stare at her mother in consternation. "Yes; of course we shall have to go away from Blue Creek very soon," answered her mother cheerfully; for, though at heart she was as sorry as Allie to leave her pleasant friends in the little camp, she was unwilling to let her one regret throw a shadow over her husband's happiness in his promotion. "Leave Blue Creek, and the Everetts, and Marjorie, and all? Let's not go," urged Howard. "The old road isn't worth it, papa." Mr. Burnam laughed.