“Well, anyway, Mr. Parcher,” said Jane, “mamma said--well, she said she's sure Willie wouldn't come here in the evening any more when YOU're at home, Mr. Parcher--'cause after he'd been wearin' the secret every night this way he wouldn't like to come and not have the secret on. Mamma said the reason he would feel like that was because he was seventeen years old. An' she isn't goin' to tell him anything about it, Mr. Parcher. She said that's the best way.” Her new friend nodded and seemed to agree. “I suppose that's what you meant when you said he wasn't coming back but didn't know it yet?” “Yes, Mr. Parcher.” He rested an elbow upon the gate-post, gazing down with ever-increasing esteem. “Of course I know your last name,” he said, “but I'm afraid I've forgotten your other one.” “It's Jane.” “Jane,” said Mr. Parcher, “I should like to do something for you.” Jane looked down, and with eyes modestly lowered she swallowed the last fragment of the bread-and-butter and apple sauce and sugar which had been the constantly evanescent companion of their little walk together. She was not mercenary; she had sought no reward. “Well, I guess I must run home,” she said. And with one lift of her eyes to his and a shy laugh--laughter being a rare thing for Jane--she scampered quickly to the corner and was gone. But though she cared for no reward, the extraordinary restlessness of William, that evening, after dinner, must at least have been of great interest to her. He ascended to his own room directly from the table, but about twenty minutes later came down to the library, where Jane was sitting (her privilege until half after seven) with her father and mother. William looked from one to the other of his parents and seemed about to speak, but did not do so. Instead, he departed for the upper floor again and presently could be heard moving about energetically in various parts of the house, a remote thump finally indicating that he was doing something with a trunk in the attic. After that he came down to the library again and once more seemed about to speak, but did not. Then he went up-stairs again, and came down again, and he was still repeating this process when Jane's time-limit was reached and she repaired conscientiously to her little bed. Her mother came to hear her prayers and to turn out the light; and--when Mrs. Baxter had passed out into the hall, after that, Jane heard her speaking to William, who was now conducting what seemed to be excavations on a serious scale in his own room. “Oh, Willie, perhaps I didn't tell you, but--you remember I'd been missing papa's evening clothes and looking everywhere for days and days?” “Ye--es,” huskily from William.