"It needs everything!" Alix said, after a first quick tour of inspection, eyeing a great weather streak on the raw plaster of the dining-room wall. "It needs air, cleaning, straightening, flowers---Gosh, how it does need people!" "I--I can't bear it!" Cherry said softly, in a sick undertone. Alix, who was rapidly recovering her equilibrium, sprang upstairs without hearing her, but Cherry did not follow. She went to the open front doorway and stood there, leaning against the sill, and gazing sadly out at the shabby, tangled garden that had sheltered all the safety and joy and innocence of her little girl days. "Peter," she said, as he came to stand beside her, "I'm so unhappy!" "I'm sorry!" he said, simply. "I can't--I can't ever be here!" Cherry half-whispered. "At least I can't until some day--years from now--years from now!--when you and I have forgotten---" "I never shall forget," he said. And after awhile he added, "Shall you?" "No," she whispered, her eyes brimming until the dry and dusty green of the garden swam before her. "Cherry, will you end it?" he asked her, huskily. She gave him a startled look. "End it?" she faltered. "Will you--do you think you are brave enough to give everything else up for me?" he asked. "Peter!" said Cherry, hardly above a breath. "Will you go away with me?" Peter went on, feverishly. "That's the only way, now. That's the only way--now. Will you go away?" "Go away!" Cherry's face was ashen as she moved her tragic and beautiful eyes to his. "Go away where?" "Anywhere!" Peter answered, confusedly. "Anywhere!" He did not meet her look, his own went furtively about the garden. Immediately he seemed to regain self-control. "I'm talking like a fool!" he said, quickly. "I don't know what I'm saying half the time! I'm sorry--I'm sorry, Cherry. Don't mind me. Say that you'll forgive me for what I said!" He had taken her hands, and they were looking distressedly and soberly at each other when an unexpected noise made them step quickly apart. Cherry's heart beat madly with terror, and Peter flushed deeply. It was Martin Lloyd's aunt, Mrs. North, their old neighbour, who came about the corner of the house, and approached them smilingly. How much had she seen? Cherry asked herself, in a panic. What were they doing?--what were they saying as she appeared?--how much had their attitude betrayed them? Mrs. North was the same loud-laughing, cheerful woman as of old. She had moved to Portland to be near Martin's mother, some years before, and was delighted with the chance that had brought her back to the valley on the very day that brought the Strickland girls back to the old house. She kissed Cherry, and was full of queries for Martin. "Durango? Belle told me something about his going there," she said. "Isn't he the wandering Ayrab? And ain't you the good-natured little wife to follow him about everywhere? How long you been here, Cherry?"