“Mark!” she exclaimed with a very well assumed sneer. “As if I kept an account of Mark's comings and goings!” But she could not prevent an extra color from rising into her face. “I wish you did, Sally,” Gilbert gravely remarked. “Mark is a fine fellow, and one of my best friends, and he'd be all the better, if a smart, sensible girl like yourself would care a little for him.” There was no answer to this, and Sally, with a hasty “I'll tell mother you're here!” darted into the house. Gilbert was careful not to ask many questions during his visit; but Sally's rattling tongue supplied him with all he would have been likely to learn, in any case. She had found Martha at home the day before, and had talked about him, Gilbert. Martha hadn't noticed anything “queer” in his manner, whereupon she, Sally, had said that Martha was growing “queer” too; then Martha remarked that--but here Sally found that she had been talking altogether too fast, so she bit her tongue and blushed a little. The most important piece of news, however, was that Miss Lavender was then staying at Dr. Deane's. On his way to the village, Gilbert chose the readiest and simplest way of accomplishing his purpose. He would call on Betsy Lavender, and ask her to arrange her time so that she could visit his mother during his approaching absence from home. Leaving his horse at the hitching-post in front of the store, he walked boldly across the road and knocked at Dr. Deane's door. The Doctor was absent. Martha and Miss Lavender were in the sitting-room, and a keen, sweet throb in his blood responded to the voice that bade him enter. “Gilbert Potter, I'll be snaked!” exclaimed Miss Lavender, jumping up with a start that overturned her footstool.