“Who is ill now, doctor?” inquired Norine, as she deftly pared the edges of the pie she held in one hand. “It is not the Higgins’ this time, is it?” “No; they are well, for a wonder. I only came to see Clinton and--you.” “Clinton and I are duly grateful, I assure you,” smiled Norine. “This will be a red-letter day in our calendar, and you shall have an extra large piece of pie at dinner. Won’t that prove my gratitude?” she asked, smiling archly. The doctor smiled a little in return and sighed a little too. “When will you be done?” he asked, passing his hand over his head. “A woman’s work is never done,” hummed Norine in reply. “Didn’t you know that? But then we can manage to find time to entertain our guests when we want to.” “I hope you want to in this case,” said Conway, affecting a lightness he did not feel, “for I want to be entertained.” “And you shall be,” returned Norine, “as royally entertained as our limited means will allow.” She stopped and looked at him curiously for a moment. “You are not ill?” she asked anxiously. “I? No; why do you ask? Do I look ill?” “Not exactly ill,” said Norine, considering. “But you look as if something unusual had happened.” “Perhaps I expect something unusual to happen soon,” replied Conway, flushing a little. “What is it?” inquired Norine. She had washed her hands and was standing before him trying to untie the big apron. “Dear me, what a knot,” she said, forgetting the question. “Let me untie it,” said Conway; and Norine turned her back to him that he might reach the obdurate knot, puckering up her little mouth the while with a look of deep concern. Now there are few things more trying to the average lover than the untying of his sweetheart’s apron strings. There is something in the close proximity necessary for the operation that is very trying to one’s nerves. And then when the knot is at last undone, and the mischievous apron slowly drawn away, there is something so tantalizing in the disappearance of the strings that it is almost impossible not to follow them with one’s arms and take forcible possession at once. Conway must have had wonderful power over himself that he did not do this, for the big apron, when removed, disclosed a waist captivating enough in all conscience. But he did not, he only bent close--very close to her ear, and whispered: “Norine, you know I love you.” Norine started from him with a little cry of fright. “Oh, no!” she cried. “Do not say it.” “How can I help saying it,” he returned sadly. “I have loved you so long and so patiently. I have waited so long, oh, so long! Norine--Norine, you know this, you must know how I have suffered. Can not you give me a little love in return?” Poor Norine was weeping bitterly.