Frank waited--three minutes perhaps. Then he said, "Tell me, Ray. If it is to be no, let me know it." "If it had been no. I could have said it sooner," Ray answered, softly. * * * * * "May I come back?" he asked, when he helped her down at the door in Pilgrim Street, and held her hand fast for a minute. "O yes; come back and see mother," Ray replied, her face all beautiful with smile and color. Mother knew all the story, that minute, as well as when it was told her afterward. She saw her child's face, and that holding of the hand, from her upper window, where a half blind had fallen to. Mothers do not miss the home-comings from such drives as that. * * * * * "There's one thing, Frank,"--said Ray. She was standing with him, three hours afterward, at the low step of the entrance, he above her on the sidewalk, looking down upon her upturned face. The happy tea and family evening were over; that first family evening, when one comes acknowledged in, who has been almost one of the family before; and they were saying the first beautiful good-by, which has the beginning of all joining and belonging in it. "There is one thing, Frank. I'm under contract for the present; for quite a while. I'm going into the bread business, after all. I've promised Miss Grapp to take her bakery, and manage it for her, for a year or so." "Who--is--Miss Grapp?" exclaimed Frank, pausing between the words in his astonishment. Ray laughed. "Haven't I told you? I thought everybody knew. It's too long a story for the door-step. When you come again"-- "That'll be to-morrow." "I'll tell you all about it." "You'll have to manage the bakery and me too, somehow, before--a 'year or so'! How long do you suppose I expect to wait?" "Dear me! how long _have_ you waited?" returned Ray, demurely. She only meant the three hours since they had been engaged; but it is a funny fact about the nature and prerogative of a man, that he may take years in which to come to the point of asking--years in which perhaps a woman's life is waiting, with a wear and an uncertainty in it; but the point of _having_ must be moved up then, to suit his sudden impatience of full purpose. A woman shrinks from this hurry; she wants a little of the blessed time of sure anticipation, after she knows that they belong to one another; a time to dream and plan beautiful things together in; to let herself think, safely and rightly, all the thoughts she has had to keep down until now. It is the difference of attitude in the asking and answering relations; a man's thoughts have been free enough all along; he has dreamt his dream out, and stands claiming the fulfillment.