"Well, never mind," he said, patiently, "I'll wait." He went down the steps, hesitated, and, while Edith was still squeezing a little wet ball of a handkerchief against her eyes, came back. "Do you mind if I ask you just one question, Edith?" "Of course not! Only, Johnny, it just about _kills_ me to be--horrid to you." "Have you really got to be horrid?" said John Bennett. "Johnny, I _can't_ help it!" "Is it because there's any other fellow, Edith? That's the question I wanted to ask you." She was silent. "Edith, I really think I have a right to know?" Still she didn't speak. "Of course, if there _is_--" "There isn't!" she broke in.... "Why, Johnny, you're the best friend I have. No; there isn't anybody else. The honest truth is, I don't believe I'm the sort of girl that gets married. I can't imagine caring for _anybody_ as much as I care for father and mother and Maurice. I--I'm not sentimental, Johnny, a bit. I'm awfully fond of you; _awfully_! You come next to Maurice. But--but not that way. That's the truth, Johnny. I'm perfectly straight with you; you know that? And you won't throw me over, will you? If I lost you, I declare I--I don't know what I'd do! You won't give me up, will you?" John Bennett was silent for a long minute; then he said, "No, Edith; I'll never give you up, dear." And he went away into the darkness. CHAPTER XXII Edith's flight to one of the schoolhouses was not the entire release that Eleanor expected. "Look here, Skeezics," Maurice had announced; "you can't turn me down this way! You've got to come to supper every Sunday night!--when I'm at home. Isn't that so, Nelly?" Eleanor said, bleakly: "Why, if Edith would _like_ to, of course. But I shouldn't think she'd care to come in to town at six, and rush out to Medfield right after supper." "I don't mind," Edith said. "You bet she won't rush off right after supper!" Maurice said; "I won't let her. And if she doesn't get in here by three o'clock, I'll know the reason why!" So Edith came in every Sunday afternoon at three--and Eleanor never left her alone with Maurice for a moment! She sat and watched them; saw Edith's unconcealed affection for Maurice, saw Maurice's pleasure in Edith, saw his entire forgetfulness of herself,--and as she sat, silently, watching, watching, jealousy was like a fire in her breast.