“That is the best I have seen yet,” said Russell. “I love it,” returned Polly. “I think I’ll borrow it for the little house I mean to build up here some day.” “‘Up here’ is wonderful,” responded the young man. “I wish I were going to stay.” “Oh, do! You can help us take care of the kiddies.” He laughed and shook his head. “Guess not this time; but I will run up again for some week-end, if you would like me to.” “Of course, we should. We’d be glad to see you any time.” “I am not much interested in the ‘we,’ but if _you_ want me to come, I will come. Do you want me, Polly?” “Certainly I do. Why shouldn’t I?” “Well, I didn’t know. I am not sure about it now.” “You foolish boy! As if I wouldn’t! What possible reason could I have for not wishing you to come?” Russell grew grave. He turned and looked squarely into Polly’s eyes, looked until the brown eyes wondered--half understood--and fell away from the passionate gaze. “Don’t be silly!” she said. Then all the man in him burst forth. “Is it silly to love you, Polly Dudley? to wish to be with you? to covet the right to give you everything that can add to your pleasure and happiness? to long to hold you in my arms and to call you my wife? Is that silliness? If it is, I plead guilty.” Polly did not look up. The red burned in her cheeks and crept up under the little curls that fell over her forehead. “I suppose I am a fool,” Russell went on. “First, to come up here at all, and then to blurt out like this, when I had made up my mind to wait. But, of course, you’ve seen all along how it was, ever since--why, ever since the first day I saw you at high school, away back when we were kids. But David Collins was always in my way. How I longed to knock him aside! You have seen it all--haven’t you, Polly?” A tiny shake of the drooping head. “I don’t understand how you could help seeing--only you were never the girl to imagine every fellow in love with you that happened to wish you good-morning.” There was a moment’s silence. Presently he asked, “Haven’t you a single word for me, Polly?” Even then she did not speak at once. Finally the answer came. “I am sorry, Russell--oh, I’m so sorry! I never dreamed it!” She glanced up, and the eyes that looked into his were mournful. He drew a deep breath. “Don’t grieve over it, Polly. I ought to have known how it would be. It’s all right.” He was looking straight ahead, and his voice seemed far away. “I hoped you did care for me--a little; but if you--do not--” The words suddenly halted. “I am afraid you don’t quite understand. I like you, Russell, I have always liked you; but--there is David!” “Polly!” He stared at her in amazement. “Surely you do not care for David Collins--after his abominable treatment of you! It is unbelievable.”