"I put it there!" defiance and pride touched the words, "it means as much to me as it does to you—the going away, I mean. I've thought it all out—you'll have to pay it back—pay it as I want it."
Sandy's mind worked more slowly; gropingly he strove to understand.
"How did you get it?" he asked relentlessly.
Cynthia laughed a little.
"Just scratches and pricks—it was great fun! I've been gathering the wool from the bushes under which the sheep go, for years and years; ever since you began to save, Sandy. Lily Ivy sold the wool to the darkies—and I got Mr. Greeley to change the pennies—for bills. It is all mine, every bit!"
A mist rose to Sandy's eyes—it almost hid that pure flower-like face shining under the dark trees.
"You mustn't be mean, Sandy; besides, you are to pay it all back."
"How?" That word was all Sandy could master for a sharp pain in his throat drove all else he meant to say back.
"Why, you are going to set me free—you must marry me!"
Like a child playing with fire Cynthia heedlessly spoke these words. They had no deeper significance to her than the lilt of a world-old song. Marriage was the end-all and consummation of her magic stories and, in this case, it had simply been a trifle more difficult to consider on account of the social difference between Sandy and her. However, that had been overcome by the wand of imagination. Sandy would evolve into something so peculiarly splendid that the chasm could be bridged!