They came up through the grassy lane in the gloaming. Mrs. Beasely would be waiting supper for her boarder; but Nelson scouted the idea that he should not see Janice home first.
Lights had begun to twinkle in the sitting-rooms of the various houses along the street. But there was a moon. Indeed, that was the excuse they had for remaining so late on the shore of the inlet. They had stopped to see it rise.
Through the thick trees the moonlight searched out the side porch of Hopewell Drugg's store. The plaintive notes of the storekeeper's violin breathed tenderly out upon the evening air:
"Darling, I am growing old—
Silver threads among the gold"
sighed Janice, happily. "And that is Miss 'Rill beside him there on the porch—don't you see her?"
"I see," said Nelson. "Mrs. Beasely is helping 'Rill make her wedding gown. Little Lottie is going to have a new mamma."
"And—and Hopewell's been playing that old song to her all these years!" murmured Janice. "They are just as happy——"
"Aren't they!" agreed Nelson, with a thrill in his voice. "I hope that when we're as old as they are, we'll be as happy, too. Do you suppose——"
Nobody but Janice heard the rest of his question—not even the echo!