The house had been warm. Her brown hair lay moist on her forehead, her thin white dress was turned in at the throat. She stood on the steps, the door closed behind her, and threw out her arms in a swift gesture to the cool air. The moonlight clothed her as with a garment. From across the Street the boy watched her with adoring, humble eyes. All his courage was for those hours when he was not with her.
“Hello, Joe.”
“Hello, Sidney.”
He crossed over, emerging out of the shadows into her enveloping radiance. His ardent young eyes worshiped her as he stood on the pavement.
“I'm late. I was taking out bastings for mother.”
“Oh, that's all right.”
Sidney sat down on the doorstep, and the boy dropped at her feet.
“I thought of going to prayer meeting, but mother was tired. Was Christine there?”
“Yes; Palmer Howe took her home.”
He was at his ease now. He had discarded his hat, and lay back on his elbows, ostensibly to look at the moon. Actually his brown eyes rested on the face of the girl above him. He was very happy. “He's crazy about Chris. She's good-looking, but she's not my sort.”