"The question has been on my lips many times," he said, "since the night—so long ago now—when I picked up this, which a careless person dropped in the road." He took out of his pocket a large case which held his letters, and drew from it a handkerchief. "Look," he said, "whose property is this?"
"My handkerchief! I remember I dropped it that afternoon, and how Stevens scolded me and said I should lose my head next."
"Well," Philip said, "I lost my heart then, and kept the handkerchief as a compensation. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she said.
"And if I asked the question now, could you answer it, Salome?"
"I think I could," she replied.
"I have loved you ever since that evening when you looked up at me, your face so dimly seen in the twilight," he went on; "the little brave sister coming out to meet a stranger to save her brother from disgrace and her mother pain. Every month, nay, every day I have lived since then, I have loved you more. Can you love me, and, when I come back next time, be my wife?"
"Yes," was the simple answer. Then, as if to strengthen it, she repeated, "Oh yes; let us go home and tell mother."
How happy they were as they walked to Elm Cottage together, and how bright and joyous were all the inhabitants of the little home that evening. The next morning, Puck, after an extra washing, had a piece of red ribbon tied round his neck, which was a long established custom on birthdays, and Salome said, as she tied it on between smiles and tears, for she had just parted with Philip for a whole year,—
"Ah, Puck, this is a grand day, not a birthday, but such a happy day to me; and, Puck, my new story is to be called 'Under the Quarry!'"