Mildred went quietly to her sister's door and listened. All was still. "Then she has been at home some time," thought the girl. "Good! That speaks volumes. Poor fellow, I'm sorry for him." The frou-frou of her dress as she turned away almost drowned the voice that spoke her name. Not quite, however. She turned the handle of the door.
"Did you call me, Clover?"
"Yes; come in."
"I didn't mean to disturb you."
"Oh, I can't go to sleep. I don't want to."
The speaker put out her hand, and drew Mildred down on the side of the bed. The latter's eyes widened in their effort to penetrate the darkness.
"Something did happen, then?"
"Yes, it is all right," answered Clover, and her soft, glad tone pierced to her sister's heart.
"What do you mean by that?"
"He does love me!" What a different voice was this from the one in which she had said the same words to Jack Van Tassel five years ago!