"Yes, it is but right."
"Then why do you look so solemn?"
"You're going away from us."
Her hand was lying quietly in his, when she answered,—
"Going away? I shall see you three times every day. What do you mean?"
"When there was your father and mother and me, 'us four, and no more,' there were not dozens to think about. You'll have dozens now."
"I hope they will be pleasant," she said, looking away, that he should not see how bright her eyes were, when his were so grave.
"I hope they will. And I'm sure of it. Never fear. I suppose, too, they must make you like themselves, some ways. I'd be glad, if I thought you'd make any of them like you."
"How's that?" she asked, half laughing, but she trembled as well. What would honest Silas say next, he was making such a very grave business out of this school-going?
"True,—modest,—sensible,—respectful,—a lady, ten times more than those they make up so fine," said he, slowly. And still he held her hand as quietly as if it did not thrill with quickening pulses; and his speech and composure showed what power of self-control the young man had,—for he was fearful when he looked forward, anticipating the change this year might bring to pass in and for Columbia Dexter.