How much he longed to take that fair girl in his arms then and there and ask her to be his own sweet Alice need not be specified. For a moment her tender blue eyes met his brown ones, and then they fell. "I am glad I did not make a mistake," she said softly. "I thank you," he almost whispered, "and there won't be many waking moments in my future when I shall not think of--sweet Alice!" It was not much of a love scene, but to him it seemed a wide-open door of hope, and when many miles separated them, and for days, weeks, and months afterward, even when doing his best to crowd dull law reports into his brain, the one tender glance she gave him and the tones of her voice came back with unfailing accuracy. There is no spot where every one knows everybody else's business and discusses it that is quite equal in this way to a small country town, and Sandgate was no exception. The first visit of Frank Nason to the Page home, his sleigh-rides with Alice, and his appearance at church had caused no end of comment. It was known that he had been a classmate of Albert's and came from Boston, and later Aunt Susan vouch-safed the information that she "guessed he came from one o' the first families and that he appeared right well behaved." It was all she really did know, for both Alice and her brother were considerate of her failings and knew it was not safe to discuss their visitor in her presence. The tempest of gossip had not more than half quieted down when it received a regular boom from his second coming. The pupils of the north end district school spread the news of their teacher's unexpected callers; that they heard her kiss one, and which one they did not know; and that she had dismissed school at once and gone on with the stranger. Old Amos Curtis, the miller, told of their visit, and, wonder upon wonder, how the next day "her beau" had given him a five-dollar bill "jest fer lettin' 'em use a leaky old boat fer an hour." The buxom Abby Miles had the best and longest story to tell, and her praise of Mr. Nason, how polite he was, and "how he couldn't keep his eyes off'n Alice all the afternoon," was whispered to every girl she knew. The five-dollar incident created the most gossip, however. The miller had remarked that a "young feller who threw money 'round that way must be rich," and that remark soon grew into a story that Alice Page's beau was worth a million, and that she was engaged to him. As might be expected, the subject of all this gossip heard none of it until the storm had reached alarming proportions. Some of the village swains who had tried to pay court to her and failed were inclined to sneer at the "smart young man from the city" who had cut them out; but the older people and the girls were disposed to congratulate her upon what they considered her good luck. It was this inclination that led Mrs. Mears to be the first one to tell the extent of the gossip.