“And you go to-morrow?” he asked, and it seemed to me that there were tears in his voice.
“Yes,” she said, with a sigh that hinted that she was not altogether glad to go. “Papa has bought the old place back again; we shall stop in Denver for mamma and my little brother, and then return to the dear old home where I have spent so many happy days—where I learned to lisp the prayers that I have never forgotten to say in this wicked camp; and I feel now that God has heard and answered me. It may seem almost wicked, but I am half sorry to leave this place; you have all been so kind to me; but it is best. Father will give you our address, and now, how soon may we expect you in Chicago?”
“How soon may I come?—next week—next year?”
“Not next year,” she said quickly; and although I was looking at my paper, I saw him raise her hand to his lips.
“And will you give me your photo then?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered, and I wanted to jump and yell, but I was afraid she might change her mind.
“I wish you would sing one song for me before you go,” said Harry, after they had been silent for some moments.
“What shall it be?”
“When other lips,” he answered.