"You will find, Kenneth," broke in her mother drily, "that she has a temper."
"I guess he has found that out before this," said Viola, from the doorstep. "He has had a taste of it. If he doesn't like—"
"I am used to tempers," said he, now lightly. "I have a devil of a temper myself."
"I don't believe it," she cried. "You've got the kindest, sweetest, gentlest nature I've ever—"
"Come and sit down, Viola," interrupted her mother, arising. "I am going in the house myself."
"You needn't, mother. I am going to bed. Good night, Kenny."
"I came to say good-bye," he reminded her.
She paused with her hand on the latch. He heard the little catch in her breath. Then she turned impulsively and came back to him. He was still standing on the ground, several feet below her.
"What a beast I am, Kenny," she murmured contritely. "I waited out here all evening for you to come over so that I could say good-bye and tell you how much I shall miss you,—and to wish you a speedy and safe return. And you paid me a great compliment,—the greatest a girl can have. I don't deserve it. But I will miss you, Kenny,—I will miss you terribly. Now, I MUST go in. If I stay another second longer I'll say something mean and spiteful,—because I AM mean and spiteful, and no one knows it better than I do. Good-bye, Kenneth Gwynne."
"Good-bye, Minda Carter," he said softly, and again raised her hand to his lips. "My little Minda grown up to be the most beautiful queen in all the world."