I have the honor to inform you that, at our last meeting of the Lawyers’ Consolidated Trust Company, the firm of Atwater and Grimsby have been awarded the plans for our new building. My hearty congratulations. As ever,
Your old friend,
Enoch Crane.
Two weeks passed—two whole weeks of memorable days. No jollier party had ever come to the pond.
Then came their last evening, when that mysterious magnetic spell of the dark old still water drew their green boat far up its silent stretches, Joe at the paddle and Sue lying wrapped in a camp blanket in the bow. There were long moments when neither spoke to-night—their last on the old stream together. Sue lay motionless, gazing up at the great star-strewn heavens above her, framed by the dark spruces. Despite their millions of stars, it was so dark under the trees that Joe in the stern could scarcely make out her silhouette. Now and then her ears caught the drip-drip of his paddle. The silence was intense. It seemed to Sue almost a sacrilege to break it by words.
What could she say!
To-morrow meant good-by to their paradise.
Two weeks ago they were rich in days—now they counted the hours.
She lay there trying to be brave, to reason, to be grateful for all those days of comradeship. It had been her first experience in the woods. She felt as if she dreaded ever seeing the city again, the dingy old house, the hot, stifling streets, and the lessons. The green boat moved noiselessly around another bend. Sue closed her eyes.
Joe felt strangely silent, too. Something gripped at his heart, but he kept on bravely at his paddle. Finally, with a feeling of desperation, he drove the boat straight into the overhanging alders.