I rattled Hotspur--that's the pony--out to the happy hunting-ground by the river, till I saw Dr. Denbigh's gray cap behind a bush, and I rightly argued that his manly form was hitched onto it, for he arose up in his might as I stopped the cart. Peggy gasped and said, “Oh--oh! We must go home. Oh, Billy, drive on!” Which Billy didn't do, not so you'd notice it. Then the doctor said, in his I-am-the-Ten-Commandments manner, “Get out, Peggy,” and held his hand. And Peggy said, “I won't--I can't,” and immediately did, the goose. Then he looked at me in a funny, fierce way he has, with his eyebrows away down, only you know he's pleasant because his eyes jiggle. “Billy, my son,” he said, “will you kindly deprive us of the light of your presence for one hour by the clock? Here's my timepiece--one hour. Go!” And he gave Hotspur a slap so he leaped. Dr. Denbigh is the most different person from Harry Goward I know. Well, I drove round by the Red Bridge, and was gone an hour and twelve minutes, and I thought they'd be missing me and in a fit to get home, so I just raced Hotspur the last mile. “I'm awfully sorry I'm so late,” said I. “I got looking at some pigs, so I forgot. I'm sorry,” said I. Peg looked up at me as if she couldn't remember who I was, and inquired, wonderingly: “Is it an hour yet?” And Dr. Denbigh said, “Great Scott! boy, you needn't have hurried!” That's lovers all over. And they hadn't finished yet, if you'll believe me. Dr. Denbigh went on talking as they stood up, just as if I wasn't living. “You won't promise me?” he asked her. And she said: “Oh, Jack, how can I? I don't know what to do--but I'm engaged to him--that's a solemn thing.” “Solemn nonsense,” said the doctor. “You don't love him--you never did--you never could. Be a woman, dearest, and end this wretched mess.” “I never would have thought I loved him if I hadn't believed I'd lost you,” Peggy ruminated to herself. “But I must think--” As if she hadn't thunk for an hour! “How long must you think?” the doctor fired at her. “Don't be cross at me,” said she, like a baby, and that big capable man picked up her hand and kissed it--shame on him! “No, no, dear,” he said, as meek as pie. “I'll wait--only you MUST decide the right way, and remember that I'm waiting, and that it's hard.” Then he put her into the cart clingingly--I'd have chucked her--and I leaned over toward him the last thing and threw my head lovingly on one side and rolled my eyes up and murmured at him, “Good-bye, Jack,” and started Hotspur before he could hit me.