"Hurrah!" he broke in jubilantly. "It's just what I wanted, Viola. Now you are being a real sister to me. We will start early in the morning and--and buy out the town. Bless your heart, you've taken a great load off my mind. I haven't the intelligence of a snipe when it comes to fitting up a--why, say, I tell you what I'll do. I will let you choose everything I need, just as if you were setting up housekeeping for yourself. Curtains, table cloths, carpets, counterpanes, china, Queensware, chairs, chests--" "Brooms, clothes-pins, rolling-pins, skillets, dough-bowls, cutlery--" "Bureaus, looking-glasses, wardrobe, antimacassar tidies, bedspreads, towels--" "Oh, Kenny, what fun we'll have," she cried. "And, first of all, you must let me come over right now and help you with your list. I know much better than you do what you really need,--and what you don't need. We must not spend too much money, you see." "'Gad," he gulped, "you--you talk just as if you and I were a poor, struggling young couple planning to get married." "No, it only proves how mean and selfish I am. I am depriving your future bride of the pleasure of furnishing her own house, and that's what all brides like better than anything. But I promise to pick out things that I know she will like. In the meantime, you will be happy in knowing that you have something handsome to tempt her with when the time comes. As soon as you are all fixed up, you must give a party. That will settle everything. They'll all want to marry you,--and they'll have something to remember me by when I'm gone. Come on, Kenny, let's go in and start making the list." She started off toward her own gate, but stopped as he called out to her. "Wait! Are you sure your mother will approve of your--" "Of course she will!" she flung back at him. "She doesn't mind our being friendly. Only,"--and she came back a few steps, "I am afraid she will never be friends with you, Kenny. I am sorry." He was silent. She waited for a moment before turning away, shaking her head slightly as if attempting to dismiss something that perplexed her sorely. There was a yearning in his eyes as they followed her down to the gate; then he shot a quick, accusing glance at the house in which his enemy lived. He saw the white curtains in the north parlor window drop into place, flutter for a second or two, and then hang perfectly still. Rachel Gwyn had been watching them. He made no effort to hide the scowl that darkened his brow as he continued to stare resentfully at the window. He met Viola at his own disabled gate, which cracked and shivered precariously on its rusty hinges as he jerked it open.