There are a good many things to do when you are in love, but the Girl did not mean that the _Art of Conversation_ should be altogether lost, so she plunged for a topic. "I think it was beautiful of you to give me a Hickory Dock," she ventured at last. The Man shifted a trifle uneasily and laughed. "I thought perhaps it would please you," he stammered. "You see, now I have given you _all my time_." The Girl chuckled with amused delight. "Yes--all your time. And it's nice to have a Hickory Dock that says 'Till he comes! Till he comes! Till he comes!'" "Till he comes to--_stay_," persisted the Man. There was no sparkle in his sentiment. He said things very plainly, but his words drove the Girl across the room to the window with her face flaming. He jumped and followed her, and caught her almost roughly by the shoulder and turned her round. "Rosalie, Rosalie," he demanded, "will you love me till the _end of time_?" There was no gallantry in his face but a great, dogged persistency that frightened the Girl into a flippant answer. She brushed her fluff of hair across his face and struggled away from him. "I will love you," she teased, "until--the clock stops." Then the Man burst out laughing, suddenly and unexpectedly, like a boy, and romped her back again across the room, and snatched up the clock and stole away the key. "Hickory Dock shall _never_ stop!" he cried triumphantly. "I will wind it till I die. And no one else must ever meddle with it." "But suppose you forget?" the Girl suggested half wistfully. "I shall _never_ forget," said the Man. "I will wind Hickory Dock every week as long as I live. I _p-r-o-m-i-s-e_!" His lips shut almost defiantly. "But it isn't fair," the Girl insisted. "It isn't fair for me to let you make such a long promise. You--might--stop--loving me." Her eyes filled quickly with tears. "Promise me just for one year,"--she stamped her foot,--"I won't take any other promise." So, half provoked and half amused, the Man bound himself then and there for the paltry term of a year. But to fulfil his own sincerity and seriousness he took the clock and stopped it for a moment that he might start it up again with the Girl close in his arms. A half-frightened, half-willing captive, she stood in her prison and looked with furtive eyes into the little, potential face of Hickory Dock. "You--and I--for--_all time_," whispered the Man solemnly as he started the little mechanism throbbing once more on its way, and he stooped down to seal the pledge with a kiss, but once more the significance of his word and act startled the Girl, and she clutched at the clock and ran across the room with it, and set it down very hard on her desk beside the Man's picture. Then, half ashamed of her flight, she stooped down suddenly and patted the little, ticking surface of ebony and glass and silver. "It's a wonderful little Hickory Dock," she mused softly. "I never saw one just like it before."