"Will you marry me, Sandy, like they do in books?"
"If—if—that is the best way, yes."
"Oh! it always is! It's a mighty fine way, because then no one can—make you do things. I shall make you do whatever I choose, Sandy—will you mind?"
"No."
"You know in my book, Sandy, there is a Madam Bubble and I'm making myself like her. You can make yourself into anything, I reckon, Sandy, if you just will, and dream about it. Listen to me!" Cynthia had Sandy by the shoulders now in frank, playful mood. "I am tall and comely—I looked up the word, and it says it means to be agreeable and good-looking. Well, I'm good-looking—or I'm going to be. Then the book says Madam Bubble speaks smoothly and smiles at the end of a sentence. I've tried and tried and now I can smile that way. Look, Sandy!"
Again Sandy forced himself to fasten his eyes on the sweet, tender mouth.
"I love to smile, Sandy."
Suddenly the girl's gay tone changed; she came back to grim facts with a catch in her voice.
"How I shall miss you, Sandy. The woods will be right empty—till you come again! I shall make believe find you on the hills even when I know you are not here, but always I will be able to see you in the Significant Room! I'm going to study and make myself fit for you—I shall be right busy. I am going to ask Aunt Ann to let me learn of the little doctor. I shall study the books you have and—it won't seem long, Sandy!"
The brave attempt at cheer, the tender renunciation in the soft voice, wrung Sandy's heart.