"I was a selfish brute in lots of ways afterward, though," said Kent, moodily. "I didn't have sense enough to appreciate you, to realize—yet, I did in a way. Remember our talks up at camp? Then, of course, we never shall agree on the Indian question. But what does that amount to?"
Kent dropped Lydia's hand and faced her. "Lydia, do you care for me—care for me enough to marry me?"
Lydia turned pale. Something in her heart began to sing. Something in her brain began to stir, uncomfortably.
"Oh, Kent," she began, breathlessly, then paused and the two looked deep into each other's eyes.
"Lydia! Lydia!! I need you so!" cried Kent. "You are such a dear, such a pal, so pretty, so sweet—and I need you so! Won't you marry me, Lydia?"
He seized both her hands and held them against his cheeks.
"I've always loved you dearly, Kent, and yet," faltered Lydia, "and yet, somehow, I don't think we'd ever make each other happy."
"Not make each other happy! I'd like to know why not! Just try me,
Lydia! Try me!"
Kent's charming face was glowing. Into Lydia's contralto voice crept the note that had belonged to little Patience's day.
"I'd like to try you, dear if—— Wait, Kent, wait! Let me have my playtime, Kent. I've never had a real one, you know, till now. Let me finish college, then ask me again, will you, Kent?"