The boy found voice. "Aw no, Bob and Molly are still up there." She started to rise, he caught her hand, but she pulled it away and resigned herself for a moment. Then she looked at him a long second and said, "Do you remember years ago at the Frye boy's party--when we were little tots, and I chose you?" The boy nodded his head and turned full toward her with serious eyes. He devoured her feature by feature with his gaze in the starlight. The moon was just rising at the end of the mill-dam behind them, and its light fell on her profile. He cried out, "Yes, Ellen, do you--do you?" She nodded her head and spoke quickly, "That was the time you got your hands stuck in the taffy and had to be soaked out." They laughed. John tried to get the moment back. "Do you remember the rubber ring I gave you?" She grew bold and turned to him with her heart in her face: "Yes--yes, John, and the coffee-bean locket. I've got them both in a little box at home." Then, scampering back to her reserve, she added, "You know ma says I'm a regular rat to store things away." She felt that the sudden reserve chilled him, for in a minute or two she said, looking at the bridge: "They're going now. We mustn't stay but a minute." She put her hand on the rock between them, and said, "You remember that night when you went away before?" Before he answered she went on: "I was counting up this afternoon, and it's six years ago. We were just children then." Again the boy found his voice: "Ellen Culpepper, we've been going together seven years. Don't you think that's long enough?" "We were just children then," she replied. The boy leaned awkwardly toward her and their hands met on the rock, and he withdrew his as he asked, "Do you--do you?" She bent toward him, and looked at him steadily as she nodded her head again and again. She rose to go, saying, "We mustn't stay here any longer." He caught her hand to stop her, and said, "Ellen--Ellen, promise me just one thing." She looked her question. He cried, "That you won't forget--just that you won't forget." She took his hand and stood before him as he sat, hoping to stay her. She answered: "Not as long as I live, John Barclay. Oh, not as long as I live." Then she exclaimed: "Now--" and her voice changed, "we just must go, John; Molly's gone, and it's getting late." She helped him limp over the rocks and up the steep road, but when they reached the