They crossed the end of the Slash, where Gavin had to help her through the tangle of bushes. And did she remember how she had given him her berries that day, he asked.
Christina laughed, but Gavin was sober. "It was a beautiful thing to do," he said, "and now you have done it again for Sandy."
"No, no," said Christina, "it was nothing; I could not be happy to go and let Sandy stay."
"But you will go some day?" added Gavin, his voice sunk to a tremulous whisper.
"Yes, perhaps next Fall, Allister and John both say, if the crops turn out well next summer. But it's a long way to look ahead."
They had come down to the level again, along the back lane and up to the little gate that led in from the barnyard.
Gavin put the flowers into her arms and handed her the many gifts.
"Won't you come in, Gavin?" she asked. "There might be a letter from Sandy."
"Thank you," he said gratefully. "No, I must not be going in to-night, Christine. Thank you for your visit. You made my Aunties very happy. And you have made me very happy, too," he added in a whisper. He saw the look of embarrassment on her face and instantly stopped. Gavin was a true gentleman at heart and guessed when he was bordering on forbidden ground. He walked away and Christina went slowly up the path.
Perhaps, after all, there was something in the saying that homekeeping hearts are happiest, she reflected. It did not seem quite so dreary to look forward to always living in Orchard Glen.