CHAPTER XIII
THE SURPRISE PARTY
He Ran straight on into—Emily.
The girl, having been attracted by the light back of her cabin, had just come out into her yard and so saw the impossible figure flying toward her, and in all the world there was never but one other man so homely and so beautiful.
"I—I thought your house was afire," Ambrose announced huskily.
He had stopped so close to the girl that she caught both his hands in hers, pressing one for an instant against her cheek.
"Something is burning in the woods; it doesn't matter," she answered; "but, oh, Ambrose, you have been such a long time in coming to me!"
The girl's eyes were shining, her figure perfectly distinct, and she wore the primrose dress, yet Ambrose knowing this did not believe he had dared look at her.
"I haven't come to you now," he defended stoutly; "I was just afeard to trust you to Miner in a fire."
Then Emily laughed the low understanding laugh that was her greatest charm, and all the while drawing her companion with her toward their bench in front of her door, she sat down beside him, still keeping one hand in his gently resisting fingers; there seemed to be no fear and no shyness about Emily to-night; she was too exquisitely a thing of love.