At the further end of the garden was a park fence, lower than the forbidding stone wall, which it joined at right angles. As anything is better than suspense, the young man resolved to take the risk of reconnoitering. He mounted the park fence and peered over the wall, but the trees and shrubbery were so thick that he could not see whether any one was in Sart-well’s garden or not; even the house was hidden from his view. Faint heart never climbed a stone wall: Marsten hesitated but a moment, seized a branch of an overhanging tree, pulled himself up to the top, chancing the glass, and leaped down among the shrubbery on the other side. He listened intently for a while, but there was no sound; then he moved cautiously through the bushes to the open space under the trees where he had talked with her the day before. No one was there, but he caught his breath as he saw a red-silk scarf hanging over the back of one of the chairs. She had at least thought of him, for that was undoubtedly the unused signal. He was now in a greater quandary than he had been on the other side of the wall. She had apparently intended to throw the scarf over the broken glass, otherwise why had she brought it to their rendezvous; but, as she had not given the signal agreed upon, might there not be a danger that her father was at home? The young man knit his brows as he pondered on what explanation he would give Sartwell if he were discovered standing under the trees. Marsten had half made up his mind to return by the way he came, when he saw Edna approaching from the house. The girl held out her hand to him with a smile that went to his heart, but her words were not so reassuring. “I was watching for you,” she said, “hoping you would not come.” “Hoping I would not come?” echoed Marsten, with a suggestion of dismay in his tone. “At least hoping you would not come, except by the gate. I don’t like this. It seems secret and mean--as if we were doing something we were ashamed of. Now, we may not accomplish much good, talking about the strike, but we are certainly not doing anything either of us would fear to have the whole world know. There is no reason, now that your plans of yesterday have failed, why you should not have come to the front door like any other visitor, is there?” “I suppose not.” “Of course not,” cried the girl, eagerly, “and so I intend to tell my father all about this visit, even if I could not mention yesterday’s.” “Oh, but you must not do anything of the kind,” pleaded Marsten, thoroughly alarmed. “You will promise me, won’t you, that you will not say a word of my being here to-day?” The girl laughed and shook her head. “I’ll not make another promise so foolish as yesterday’s. You see, my promise did no good.” “What! Did you tell Mr. Sartwell I had been here?”