"But I'm almost through what you teach," said Ellen. "I couldn't stay long if I did come. And I couldn't come, anyway. Two years from now I'm going to college."
"Oh, Ellen, I hope you'll be a good girl!"
Ellen stirred uncomfortably at the solemnity in Amos's expression.
"I mean to!"
"Don't forget what you have learned!"
"I won't. Father says you taught me very well."
"I mean you're not to forget other things—the true Gospel and the health of your soul."
"I will remember all that," said Ellen quickly, frightened by this sudden allusion to her soul.
"And don't forget me, and that I'm praying for you!"
"I won't," promised Ellen. "Indeed, I won't." Nervously she rose from her place on the old log. It was late afternoon and the shadows suddenly deepened. She held out her hand. The heart which stirred quickly at another's need felt vaguely Amos's misery. "I must go back. I—" she was still a child until she had uttered her childish sentence—"I'll kiss you if you wish, Amos!"