As the discussion grew in size it incited the close attention of the Worcester girls, but Miss Fanhall did not seem to hear it. Hawker, too, was staring into the darkness with a gloomy and preoccupied air. "Are you sorry that this is your last evening at Hemlock Inn?" said the painter at last, in a low tone. "Why, yes--certainly," said the girl. Under the sloping porch of the inn the vague orange light from the parlours drifted to the black wall of the night. "I shall miss you," said the painter. "Oh, I dare say," said the girl. Hollanden was lecturing at length and wonderfully. In the mystic spaces of the night the pines could be heard in their weird monotone, as they softly smote branch and branch, as if moving in some solemn and sorrowful dance. "This has been quite the most delightful summer of my experience," said the painter. "I have found it very pleasant," said the girl. From time to time Hawker glanced furtively at Oglethorpe, Hollanden, and the Worcester girl. This glance expressed no desire for their well-being. "I shall miss you," he said to the girl again. His manner was rather desperate. She made no reply, and, after leaning toward her, he subsided with an air of defeat. Eventually he remarked: "It will be very lonely here again. I dare say I shall return to New York myself in a few weeks." "I hope you will call," she said. "I shall be delighted," he answered stiffly, and with a dissatisfied look at her. "Oh, Mr. Hawker," cried the younger Worcester girl, suddenly emerging from the cloud of argument which Hollanden and Oglethorpe kept in the air, "won't it be sad to lose Grace? Indeed, I don't know what we shall do. Sha'n't we miss her dreadfully?" "Yes," said Hawker, "we shall of course miss her dreadfully." "Yes, won't it be frightful?" said the elder Worcester girl. "I can't imagine what we will do without her. And Hollie is only going to spend ten more days. Oh, dear! mamma, I believe, will insist on staying the entire summer. It was papa's orders, you know, and I really think she is going to obey them. He said he wanted her to have one period of rest at any rate. She is such a busy woman in town, you know." "Here," said Hollanden, wheeling to them suddenly, "you all look as if you were badgering Hawker, and he looks badgered. What are you saying to him?" "Why," answered the younger Worcester girl, "we were only saying to him how lonely it would be without Grace." "Oh!" said Hollanden. As the evening grew old, the mother of the Worcester girls joined the group. This was a sign that the girls were not to long delay the vanishing time. She sat almost upon the edge of her chair, as if she expected to be called upon at any moment to arise and bow "Good-night," and she repaid Hollanden's eloquent attention with the placid and absent-minded smiles of the chaperon who waits.