"Come, then." He led the way, by back staircases, to a quiet side entrance, and so quickly across the street, and into her own house. Then he went back to the others, to evade their questioning so cleverly that nobody but Jane’s mother suspected that anything out of the ordinary had happened. In a very short time indeed Jane drifted inconspicuously in upon the company again, and when inquiries from the younger members of the party as to the change in her costume fell thick and fast upon her, Murray protected her with the nonchalant explanation: "Don’t bother her. She’s very kindly trying to shield me for being the cause of a little accident that happened to the other dress. It was confoundedly awkward of me, but she cheers me by declaring that she can easily repair damages!" It was Murray who took Jane home again by and by, and who lingered on the porch, after the others had gone in, to tell her how his father had received the good news. "I ’m so glad!" Jane’s hands were clasped tight together. "I knew it would be just as you tell me. Are n’t you wonderfully happy?" "Wonderfully. Happier than ever in my life--except for just one thing." "Nothing serious?" "Well--I certainly hope not. What bothers me is that--you seem, somehow--not exactly afraid of me, but--different. I don’t know how to express it--but I----" He stopped, his tone growing anxious. "You know, I could n’t bear that," he added. "Unless I thought it meant---- See here, Jane--are we just as good friends as ever?" "Why, of course we are!" She said it shyly. She was very glad it was so dark on the little porch. "Friends for always?" "I don’t change, I think," she answered, with a proud little lift of the head. "Don’t you? Well, as I don’t either, that ought to satisfy me. Yet it does n’t quite, after all. It’s odd, but I believe just being good friends who don’t change is n’t enough. Oh, don’t go! You’re not angry? Yes, I know it’s late, but I ’ve hardly seen you yet. You will go?--But you ’ll let me come over early to-morrow--after more than a year away? Well, then, to-morrow I ’ll have to teach you not to be afraid of me. On my honour I ’m not carrying a ’gun!’ Wait a minute--just a minute! ... _How did I ever stay away from you so long?_ ... --Good night, little Jane--good night!" CHAPTER XI IN THE GARDEN Winter--long and cold; spring--late and slow; then, all at once, in June, radiant summer and the little garden round the corner in Gay Street was a place of richly bursting bloom--a riot of colours against the leafy green background of its vine-hung walls.