"You can not have them; I shall keep them as souvenirs. And now—have you had a pleasant day, Anne?"
"Very," replied the girl, frankly.
They shook hands in farewell, and then she went down the ladder, her shawl, plant case, and basket on her arm. Heathcote remained in the cave. When she had reached the ground, and was turning to descend the hill, a low voice above said, "Anne."
She glanced up; Heathcote was lying on the floor of the cave with his eyes looking over the edge. "Shake hands," he said, cautiously stretching down an arm.
"Once more."
She put down her shawl, plant case, and basket, and, climbing one round of the ladder, extended her hand; their finger-tips touched.
"Thanks," said the voice above, and the head was withdrawn.
Dexter, after doing what he could to make the buggy dry, was on the point of driving away, when he saw a figure coming toward him, and recognized Anne. He jumped lightly out over the wheel (he could be light on occasion), and came to meet her. It was as they had thought; he had met Miss Vanhorn, and learning where Anne was, had received permission to take her home.
"I shall not be disappointed after all," he said, his white teeth gleaming as he smiled, and his gray eyes resting upon her with cordial pleasure. He certainly was a fine-looking man. But—too large for a mill window. Fortunately mill windows are not standards of comparison.