“No. Let’s sit on the steps and see the moon rise.”
They sat side by side. “When is Towne coming back?” Baldy asked.
“In three days.”
Tree-toads were shrilling in monotonous cadence—from far away came the plaintive note of a whippoorwill. But there was another plaintive note close at hand.
“Jane, you’re crying,” Baldy said, sharply. “What’s the matter, dear?”
He put his arm about her. “What’s the matter?”
“Baldy, I don’t want to get—married. I want to stay with you—forever——”
“You shall stay with me.”
She sobbed and sobbed, and he soothed her. “Little sister, little sister,” he said, “you are crying too much in these days.”
She sat up, wiped her eyes with his handkerchief, smoothed her hair with shaking hands. “It is rather silly, Baldy.”