"There's more to follow!" cried Scissors, darting back to the shop. He emerged a few minutes later, his arms full of small parcels with Mrs. Marsh following behind. He was so intent upon balancing his precariously held pile that he did not notice a youth and a girl who stood aside to let them pass, but as he turned to hand the things to Marsh he caught a glimpse and his heart gave a great thump as he coloured in confusion. Marsh noticed John's sudden uneasiness and turned in his seat. "Lindon!" he cried. "What luck--how are you?" It was Lindon--cool, immaculate. He raised his to Mrs. Marsh, with the alert manner that distinguished him. The girl at his side was obviously his sister. She had the same straight nose and keen eyes. Her fresh beauty made John stare at her. All that fascinated him in Lindon was there with the added grace of girlhood. "Good morning, Mr. Lindon--good morning, Miss Lindon. You are shopping too, I suppose," said Mrs. Marsh genially; then noticing John nervously drawing back--"You know John, I think?" "Rather," interrupted Marsh. "John's his fag." Lindon laughed. "I'm afraid he knows me only too well." He turned to his sister. "This is Scissors--John Dean, Mabel." John raised his cap and took the proffered hand. "How d'you do," she asked, "I've heard so much of you from Henry." Then Lindon had spoken of him!--he had called him Scissors! A hundred thoughts raced through John's head. Had he forgiven--or was this mere politeness? He had talked about him to his sister, but perhaps that was before this miserable affair happened. He must speak to Lindon somehow before they parted, and say how sorry he was. The eye, he was relieved to see, showed no signs of his attack. In his imagination he had come to think of it as quite closed up. Mabel Lindon looked at the boy who stood so silent before her. Possibly he was tongued-tied, certainly he was flushed, or was it his colour? He was very attractive, she thought, and his embarrassment flattered her. "Will you not come over to see us?" she asked him. John was in a dilemma. Lindon was busily talking to Marsh and his mother, he had not heard the invitation. John waited, hoping he would hear and re-inforce it. "I'm leaving here on Tuesday--so I'm sorry I shall be unable, thank you." "Oh, that is a pity, for we are leaving next month, we are going to live in Worcestershire, and it is a shame, for we have such a wonderful garden and pond--you would love it." "I'm sure I should." They were saying good-bye now. He shook hands with Miss Lindon. Mrs. Marsh had got into the trap. John was about to follow, when Lindon spoke. "Having a good time, Scissors?" he asked, in a friendly voice. John stammered with joy and relief. It was _Pax_. "Awfully, thanks Lindon," he muttered. The reins had been jerked, the trap began to move. Miss Lindon walked on. Lindon raised his cap. "Good-bye!" he called to them. It was now or never.