He stopped, absolutely dazed. He thought that he must be struggling in a dream. He actually stepped across his fallen antagonist as he strode toward her. His blonde hair was rumpled from wrestling, his eyes shone with the light of victory. He stretched out his arms. "Are you real--" he stammered, "tell me quickly, are you real--" "I am vairee real--" she answered breathlessly, "but I am old--" Old! She was agelessly young as she stood there, smiling at him from her perch on the little iron bench. Her slender figure in the sage green frock was silhouetted against the wall, her head was lifted joyously. It was the young lawyer who came to his senses first. He shoved the disheveled Graemer out through the rear gate, the stable gate--it happened to be open and he took an immense satisfaction in after years in remembering that it was the stable gate, did that cocky young lawyer! The rest of them fled through the kitchen doorway, or rather Molly O'Reilly adroitly pushed them through it and for the next half hour the household babbled discreetly behind drawn blinds. But outside in the wee garden the years slipped back as though they had been Time in Maitre Guedron's song. "Dudley Hamilt! Dear Dudley Hamilt! You are hurting my arms a little-- " "Felice! Forgive me! I didn't mean to--it's only that I am afraid you are not real--I am afraid to let you go--" Ineffably content she stood tiptoe to put her hands on his shoulders. She lifted her adorable head and smiled. "Nevaire do--" she murmured with her lips on his. THE END End of Project Gutenberg's Little Miss By-The-Day, by Lucille Van Slyke