Gradually the girl's fascinations seemed to overpower him, and before he quite realized it, Iris had become part and parcel of his life.
On the way to the postoffice a little event had happened which had almost changed the current of his life.
They had taken the short cut from Gray Gables to the postoffice, which lay over the hills, and were walking along arm in arm when suddenly Iris' foot slipped upon a stone, and she stumbled headlong in the path with a little, terrified cry.
In an instant Harry had raised her, and to his utter consternation she clung to him half fainting.
"Oh, Mr. Kendal—Harry—I—I have sprained my ankle! I can not walk!" she said; and a low cry of pain broke from her lips.
He gathered her close in his arms, and did everything in his power to soothe her.
"I am so sorry—so sorry that I let you undertake this trip with me. Let me carry you back to the house."
"My—my ankle is not sprained," she faltered; "it was only wrenched a little as it turned over against that stone. We will sit down on this log a few moments, and after a little rest I will be all right again."
To this Kendal willingly assented, but he did not remove his arm from the slender waist.
"I am so thankful that it is no worse, Iris," he breathed, huskily.