I looked at poor Sibthorp who was walking just ahead of us. He, too, had seen the silhouette as it was outlined for one brief moment against the golden background, and I knew that his thoughts were not happy. I knew that Jack and Billy were somewhere behind us and a minute later Tom and his wife took the place of the lovers, but there was room for an ox team between them. And yet Tom and his wife are happy. But after twenty years silhouettes against the moon are not loverlike, however loverlike may be the hearts that are beating ten feet apart. That night, after all had retired, Ethel stood before the glass taking out her hair-pins and she addressed my figure in the mirror. “What _do_ you suppose?” said she in a low voice. “I suppose I’m tired,” said I yawning. “Cherry is engaged.” “Tell me something new,” said I. “Where are they going to live.” “In his studio—” “What,” I almost shouted. “Is it Jack after all.” “No, goosie,” said she fondly. “It is Billy.” “And the moon?—” “That was Billy and not Hepburn. I was fooled too.” “But Billy hasn’t a cent.” “No, but she has faith in his future, and she says she has never loved any one else since she first knew him, years ago.” “Ethel Vernon,” said I. “As a character reader I am not a success. I would have sworn that it lay between Hepburn and Sibthorp.” “You must remember that Cherry is not a character in one of your stories but a real girl,” said Ethel. “Well, I wish her joy of her long wait.” “It won’t be as long a wait as it would be if she had rejected him,” was Ethel’s Hibernian response. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XXXIV MINERVA SETTLES IT. AT almost the last moment we all postponed our going down for a day as there were so many last things to do in the way of leaving the place winter-proof. And it was well for us that we waited, for the very last mail altered the complexion of things considerably. It contained a letter from the Wheelocks telling us that instead of coming home they had decided to stay in Rome for another year. “I thought I’d write to say,” it ran, “that if you want to rent the house again next summer we’ll be glad to have you do so. Let me know if any repairs are needed.” I sought out our guests and told them the good news. “We can have the place next summer and we invite you all to come up again and be with us, or build bungalows, if you want.” Cherry blushed furiously. “We might form an artist colony.” “Suits me down to the ground,” said Billy.