"It will hardly last all the way to Lockhaven," Lois commented.
"Oh, yes, it will," answered Helen, with a ripple of joy in her tone, which, for pure gladness, was almost laughter. "You don't know, Lois!"
Lois smiled drearily; she was sitting on the steps, her arms crossed listlessly on her knees, and her eyes fixed in an absent gaze on the garden.
"Here's Giff," Helen continued, arranging her traveling-bag and some books on the opposite seat of the carriage. "I shall just have time to say good-by to him."
"That is what I came for," Gifford said, as he took her hand a moment. "I will bring Lois safely to you in a fortnight."
Mrs. Dale was on the porch, and Sally and Jean stood smiling in the doorway; so, followed by hearty good-bys and blessings, with her hands full of flowers, and the sunshine resting on her happy face and glinting through her brown hair, Helen drove away.
Mr. Dale was at the post-office, and came out to hand her the letter she expected.
"So you're off?" he said, resting his hand on the carriage door, and looking at her with a pleasant smile. "You've made me think of the starling, this last week,—you remember the starling in the Bastile? 'I can't get out,' says the starling,—'I can't get out.' Well, I'm glad you want to get out, my dear. My regards to your husband." He stood watching the carriage whirl down the road, with a shade of envy on his face.
When Helen had gone, and the little group on the porch had scattered, Lois rose to go into the house, but Gifford begged her to wait.
"You stay too much in-doors," he remonstrated; "it has made your face a little white. Do come into the garden awhile."