This eulogy touched her as nothing else possibly could have done. He was always saying such nice things. No one ever seemed to like or to appreciate her half as much as he did. And how good he was! Everybody said that. Her own father. They rode still farther, until suddenly remembering, he said: “I wonder what time it is. Perhaps we had better be turning back. Have you your watch?” Jennie started, for this watch had been the one thing of which she had hoped he would not speak. Ever since he had returned it had been on her mind. In his absence the family finances had become so strained that she had been compelled to pawn it. Martha had got to that place in the matter of apparel where she could no longer go to school unless something new were provided for her. And so, after much discussion, it was decided that the watch must go. Bass took it, and after much argument with the local pawn broker, he had been able to bring home ten dollars. Mrs. Gerhardt expended the money upon her children, and heaved a sigh of relief. Martha looked very much better. Naturally, Jennie was glad. Now, however, when the Senator spoke of it, her hour of retribution seemed at hand. She actually trembled, and he noticed her discomfiture. “Why, Jennie,” he said gently, “what made you start like that?” “Nothing,” she answered. “Haven’t you your watch?” She paused, for it seemed impossible to tell a deliberate falsehood. There was a strained silence; then she said, with a voice that had too much of a sob in it for him not to suspect the truth, “No, sir.” He persisted, and she confessed everything. “Well,” he said, “dearest, don’t feel badly about it. There never was such another girl. I’ll get your watch for you. Hereafter when you need anything I want you to come to me. Do you hear? I want you to promise me that. If I’m not here, I want you to write me. I’ll always be in touch with you from now on. You will have my address. Just let me know, and I’ll help you. Do you understand?” “Yes,” said Jennie. “You’ll promise to do that now, will you?’ “Yes,” she replied. For a moment neither of them spoke. “Jennie,” he said at last, the spring-like quality of the night moving him to a burst of feeling, “I’ve about decided that I can’t do without you. Do you think you could make up your mind to live with me from now on?” Jennie looked away, not clearly understanding his words as he meant them. “I don’t know,” she said vaguely. “Well, you think about it,” he said pleasantly. “I’m serious. Would you be willing to marry me, and let me put you away in a seminary for a few years?” “Go away to school?” “Yes, after you marry me.” “I guess so,” she replied. Her mother came into her mind. Maybe she could help the family. He looked around at her, and tried to make out the expression on her face. It was not dark. The moon was now above the trees in the east, and already the vast host of stars were paling before it. “Don’t you care for me at all, Jennie?” he asked.