“I am sorry I spoke of it, Barbara,” he said seriously; “but the fact is, whether you know it or not, you’ve been placed in a very unpleasant position.” He waited for her to speak; but she was obstinately silent, her eyes fixed on Jimmy, who was helping Peg load a wheelbarrow with the dried grass left in the wake of the lawnmower. “You are,”—pursued David, “—or think you are—unable to move hand or foot for five years. Meanwhile you are waiting, waiting for a summons which may never come. Barbara, is there anyone you know who would be likely to—who might wish to help you, and who has taken this singular way to do it?” She flashed a look of startled inquiry at him. “The idea of the auction was your own—though how you came by it, I can’t understand—and it succeeded perfectly, as far as the price paid in money was concerned; but you’re likely to pay it out in something more valuable than money. You’ve grown thin and pale, Barbara; you’re being worn out with this infernal suspense. Now, I think it’s time we tracked your purchaser to earth; or else—look at me, Barbara! Why not marry me, and defy the fellow, whoever he is?” “It wouldn’t be honorable,” she objected. “I’ve accepted the money.” “But if we paid it back?” he urged. “How can I pay it back, if—I don’t know who it is?” David tipped his chair against the house with an impatient thud. “See here,” he said strongly, “I’m going to find out who the person is, either with or without your permission. You’d like to know, I suppose?” She hesitated, evading his eyes. “I think I’d rather wait,” she said reluctantly. “Besides, you couldn’t find out.” He watched her steadily for a minute, while she set half a dozen hasty stitches in the long ruffle she was hemming. Then he deliberately put his hand over hers. “It’s too dark to sew,” he objected, “and I can’t talk to you when your eyes are glued to that piece of cloth.” Barbara folded up her work with quick motions of her slim brown fingers. Then she raised her eyes to his. “Well?” she said interrogatively. “It isn’t anything new, Barbara,” he said. “Just the same old request. When will you marry me, dear?” “I’ve told you, David, over and over. I can’t make any promises till—till——” He frowned and shrugged his shoulders impatiently. “I know,” he interrupted quickly. “But why object on the score of that absurd contract? Why, Barbara, I’ll go with you and work for nothing. Two slaves will be better than one. I’m a husky chap, capable of trundling the lawnmower, shaking down the furnace, shovelling snow, or any little job of the sort. Don’t you think your widower would appreciate my free services?” Barbara refused to smile. “Why,” she asked, “should you suppose it is a man?”