"May I?" cried Stephen, and he was so careless for a minute of the way he held the basket, that Felicia exclaimed:
"Yes! But oh, don't drop my goodies!"
"Why, I wouldn't drop anything so precious for all the world, dear Felicia," said Stephen, who now walked on air for several blocks, and what was said during that walk is private correspondence that we have no right to read. Only it is a matter of history that day that the basket never reached its destination, and that over in the other direction, late in the afternoon, the Bishop, walking along quietly from the Penrose district, in rather a secluded spot near the outlying part of the Settlement district, heard a familiar voice say:
"But tell me, Felicia, when did you begin to love me?"
"I fell in love with a little pine shaving just above your ear that day when I saw you in the shop!" said the other voice with a laugh so clear, so pure, so sweet that it did one good to hear it.
"Where are you going with that basket?" he tried to say sternly.
"We are taking it to—where are we taking it, Felicia?"
"Dear Bishop, we are taking it home to begin—"
"To begin housekeeping with," finished Stephen, coming to the rescue.
"Are you?" said the Bishop. "I hope you will invite me to share. I know what Felicia's cooking is."