"And so he was the cause of your running away from Greenvale," she said. "Why didn't you write him a note of thanks after you learned he had been searching for you? I think he deserved that much, at least." "I wouldn't humble myself," Chip answered spiritedly, "and then I was ashamed to let any one know I had used his name. I hadn't time to think what name to give when Uncle Jud asked me, and his was the first that came to mind," she added naively. Aunt Abby laughed. "I guess Master Stetson won't find forgiveness hard to earn," she said, and then her face beamed at the disclosure of a romance while she read the letter a second time. But there was more to tell, as Aunt Abby knew full well, and now, bit by bit, she drew the story from Chip, even to the admission of the tender scenes between these two lovers, in which they promised to love each other and be married. "It was silly, I suppose," Chip continued blushingly, "but I didn't know any better then, and I was so happy that I didn't think about it at all. I never had a beau before, you see, and I guess I acted foolishly. Old Cy used to help us, too, and took us away so we could have a chance to hold hands and act silly. I was so lonesome, too, for Ray all that winter in Greenvale, and nobody knew it. I walked a mile to meet the stage every night for a month, to be the first to see him when he came. I guess he must have thought he owned me. I wouldn't do it now." Once more Aunt Abby laughed, a good, hearty laugh, and then, much to Chip's astonishment, she took her face in her hands and kissed it. "You dear little goose," she said, "and to think you ran away from a boy you cared for like that! I only hope he is good enough for you, for I can see what the outcome will be." That night when the tea-table had been cleared and the lamp lit, Aunt Abby once more began her adroit questioning of Chip; but this time it was of Old Cy, and all about him. For an hour, Chip, nothing loath, recited his praises, repeated his odd sayings, described his looks and ways and portrayed him as best she could, while Aunt Abby smiled content. "It makes me feel young again to hear your story and about Cyrus," she said when all was told. "I was just sixteen when he first came to see me. He was also my first beau, you know. I should judge he must have changed so I would never know him, and maybe he wouldn't recognize me. Forty years is a long time!" And she sighed. And now Aunt Abby closed her eyes, let fall her knitting, and lapsed into bygones.