"How about Webb?" Miss Hargrove almost said, but she suppressed the words, feeling that since he had not revealed his secret she had no right to do so. Indeed, as she recalled how sedulously he had guarded it she was sure he would not thank her for suggesting it to Amy before she was ready for the knowledge. Impetuous as Miss Hargrove was at times, she had too fine a nature to be careless of the rights and feelings of others. Moreover, she felt that Webb had been her ally, whether consciously or not, and he should have his chance with all the help she could give him, but she was wise enough to know that obtrusion and premature aid are often disastrous. The decision, after this portentous conference, was: "Mr. Bart must seek me, and seek very zealously. I know you well enough Amy, to be sure that you will give him no hints. It's bad enough to love a man before I've been asked to do so. What an utterly perverse and unmanageable thing one's heart is! I shall do no angling, however, nor shall I permit any." "You may stand up straight, Gertrude," said Amy, laughing, "but don't lean over backward." Burt entertained half a dozen wild and half-tragic projects before he fell asleep late that night, but finally, in utter self-disgust, settled down on the prosaic and not irrational one of helping through with the fall work on the farm, and then of seeking some business or profession to which he could give his whole mind. "As to ladies' society," he concluded, savagely, "I'll shun it hereafter till I'm grown up." Burt always attained a certain kind of peace and the power to sleep after he had reached an irrevocable decision. During the night the wind veered to the east, and a cold, dismal rain-storm set in. Dull and dreary indeed the day proved to Burt. He could not go out and put his resolution into force. He fumed about the house, restless, yet reticent. He would rather have fought dragons than keep company with his own thoughts in inaction. All the family supposed he missed Amy, except Webb, who hoped he missed some one else. "Why don't you go over and bring Amy home, Burt?" his mother asked, at the dinner-table. "The house seems empty without her, and everybody is moping. Even father has fretted over his newspaper, and wished Amy was here." "Why can't they print an edition of the paper for old men and dark days?" said the old gentleman, discontentedly. "Well," remarked Leonard, leaning back in his chair, and looking humorously at Maggie, "I'm sorry for you young fellows, but I'm finding the day serene." "Of course you are," snapped Burt. "With an armchair to doze in and a dinner to look forward to, what more do you wish? As for Webb, he can always get astride of some scientific hobby, no matter how bad the weather is." "As for Burt, he can bring Amy home, and then every one will be satisfied," added his mother, smiling.