“Well, the war's given us that in common,” chuckled the Major, stretching out his feet. “If I remember rightly you once complained that our tastes were never alike, Molly.” Then he glanced round with hospitable eyes. “Draw up, my boy, draw up to the fire and tell your story,” he added invitingly. “By the time Champe comes home we'll have rich treats in store for the summer evenings.” Betty was looking at him as he bent over the thin flames, and Dan saw her warm gaze cloud suddenly with tears. He put out his hand and touched hers as it lay on the Major's chair, and when she turned to him she was smiling brightly. “Here's Cupid with our supper,” she said, going to the table, “and dear Aunt Rhody has actually gotten out her brandied peaches that she kept behind her 'jists.' If you ever doubted your welcome, Dan, this must banish it forever.” Then as they gathered about the fruits of Aunt Rhody's labours, she talked on rapidly in her cheerful voice. “The silver has just been drawn up from the bottom of the well,” she laughed, “so you mustn't wonder if it looks a little tarnished. There wasn't a piece missing, which is something to be thankful for already, and the port--how many bottles of port did you dig up from the asparagus bed, Uncle Cupid?” “I'se done hoed up 'mos' a dozen,” answered Cupid, as he plied Dan with waffles, “en dey ain' all un um up yit.” “Well, well, we'll have a bottle after supper,” remarked the Major, heartily. “If there's anything that's been improved by this war it should be that port, I reckon,” said Mrs. Lightfoot, her muslin cap nodding over the high old urns. “And Dan's appetite,” finished Betty, merrily. When they rose from the table, the girl tied on her bonnet of plaited straw and kissed Mrs. Lightfoot and the Major. “It is almost mamma's supper time,” she said, “and I must hurry back. Why, I've been away from her at least two hours.” Then she looked at Dan and shook her head. “Don't come,” she added, “it is too far for you, and Congo will see me safely home.” “Well, I'm sorry for Congo, but his day is over,” Dan returned, as he took up his hat and followed her out into the orchard. With a last wave to the Major, who watched them from the window, they passed under the blossoming fruit trees and went slowly down the little path, while Betty talked pleasantly of trivial things, cheerful, friendly, and composed. When she had exhausted the spring ploughing, the crops still to be planted and the bright May weather, Dan stopped beside the ashes of Chericoke, and looked at her with sombre eyes. “Betty, we must have it out,” he said abruptly. “I have thought over it until I'm almost mad, and I see but one sensible thing for you to do--you must give me up--my dearest.” A smile flickered about Betty's mouth. “It has taken you a long time to come to that conclusion,” she responded.