And now, as they drove slowly homeward, something writhed and burned within him at the further evidence of her interest in Locke. He was tempted to speak up boldly and say that there was not one chance in a million that the fellow could be a gentleman; but he had not yet lost his head, even if his heart was gone, and he had sense enough to know that such a course might be the most unwise one he could pursue. So he held himself in check, registering an inward vow that he would see to it that this fellow Locke found as little chance as might be to give him worriment over Janet. Too soon the little parsonage, a modest story-and-a-half house, one of the oldest in Kingsbridge, came into view. Too soon they were at the door, and he was helping her to alight. He held her hand to the extreme limit of good taste, held it and pressed it, saying: “I shall be at church to-morrow. If you don’t mind, it would give me pleasure to escort you home after the services.” She looked at him in surprise, her lips parted in an odd little smile, her violet eyes emphasizing her wonderment. “Why, Bent, you’ve scarcely attended church half a dozen times since you came home from college. What brings you out to-morrow?” “You!” he answered, feeling himself thrill and choke a bit. “I’m a heathen, I admit; but I’m coming out to-morrow to worship――you.” He had said such things before, to other girls, but he had spoken them lightly, and without a tremor; now little electric vibrations were running along his nerves, and, though he knew that his face was pale, he could feel his swollen heart pulsing hard, and his temples drumming. He had never dreamed that saying such a “little thing” to a pretty girl would come so near unmanning him. Her surprise had grown, but she was self-possessed. “Thou shalt not worship false gods,” she laughed. Then, as if she saw something in his eyes which made her fear he would go further, she hastily gave her consent: “If you come out to church to-morrow I’ll permit you to walk home with me――after Sabbath School. That’ll be your reward for listening to father’s sermon. Now, for the first time in my life, I feel that I have really done something for the heathen.” Laughing, she ran up the steps of the trellised porch, turning a moment to say good night, framed in an arch of June green vines. Head bared, he gazed at that picture, and found it the fairest his eyes had ever looked upon. There was now in his mind no question, no doubt; he knew. “Good night, Janet,” he said softly. “Until to-morrow, and that will be――a year.” He had laughed at silly, lovesick chaps who said things like that; but now, before he knew what he was saying, he had uttered it with all the sincerity of his soul. CHAPTER XVII FATHER AND DAUGHTER