"Lassie, don't you see that it's his only way to prove his devotion? He can't write her, so he watches outside her window, nights. She says that he takes a handful of sand and throws it against the side of the house, and she hears it and knows that he's there."
"Do you believe that?"
"I believe the whole story."
Lassie regarded her friend with amazement.
"I don't see how you can;" she said; "why, those two women would go almost wild for joy if any man wanted to marry either of them."
"No, dear," Alva said, smiling; "no, they wouldn't. The world isn't altogether worldly; there are simple, true, wholesome natures in it that look at life in a straightforward way without any illusions. And Mrs. Lathbun is one of those. Poor she may be, but she knows very well that no possible happiness can come to her child from marrying a bad man who has money."
"But her daughter wants to marry him, and he wants to marry her."
Alva paused before replying; then she said slowly:
"Lassie, there's the puzzle. Does he want to marry her?"
Lassie looked startled. "Doesn't he?" she asked.