But Ray was too loyal to the little girl he loved to discuss her further, and made no answer. Instead, he began inquiries about Christmas Cove, and as they jogged on mile after mile, he learned all that was to be known of that quiet village. When they had reached a point some three miles from it, a kindly thought came to the driver. "If Vera ain't 'spectin' ye," he said, "mebbe ye'd like to s'prise her. If so be it, ye kin. She's 'most allus out this way 'n', curislike, hides 'fore I get 'long whar she is. If I see her to-day, 'n' ye want to, I'll drop ye clus by 'n' let ye." And so it came to pass. Chip, as usual, had followed her oft-taken walk on this pleasant May afternoon. When the carryall was sighted also, as usual, she had hidden herself. With beating heart she saw two occupants this time, and looking out of her laurel screen, she saw that one was Ray. Then she crouched lower. The moment she had waited for had come. But now something unexpected happened, for after the carryall passed her hiding spot, Ray, brown and stalwart, leaped out. The carryall drove on, and she saw him returning and scanning the bushes. She was caught, fairly and squarely. One instant she hesitated, then, blushing rose-red, emerged from the undergrowth. And now came another capture, for with a "Chip, my darling," Ray sprang forward, and although she turned away, the next moment she was clasped in his arms. In vain she struggled. In vain she writhed and twisted. In vain she pushed him away and then covered her blushing face. Love, fierce and eager, could not be thus opposed. All her pride, anger, resentment, shame, and intended coldness were as so many straws, for despite her struggles, he pulled her hands aside and kissed her again and again. "My darling," he exclaimed at last, "say you forgive me; say you love me; say it now!" Then, as she drew away, he saw her eyes were brimming with tears. "I won't," she said, "I hate--" but his lips cut the sentence in two, and it was never finished. "I did mean to hate you," she declared once more, covering her face, "but I--I can't." "No, you can't," he asserted eagerly, "for I won't let you. You promised to love me once, and now you've got to, for life." And she did. When the outburst of emotion had subsided and they strolled homeward, Chip glanced shyly up at her lover. "Why did you pounce on me so?" she queried; "why didn't you ask me, first?" "My dear," he answered, "a wise man kisses the girl first, and asks her afterwards." Then he repeated the offence. [Illustration: "I did mean to hate you, but I--I can't."]