"Look here, young man," she said. "What did Sally say?"

"She said she'd let me know this morning," he answered.

"And you've been blamin' my old rooster for gettin' you up?"

"Not blaming him exactly," he apologized.

"And you aren't sure whether she's goin' to say yes or goin' to say no?"

Don's lips tightened.

"I'm not sure whether she's going to say yes or no this morning. But, believe me, Mrs. Halliday, before she dies she's going to say yes."

Mrs. Halliday nodded approvingly. She went further; she placed a thin hand on Don's shoulder. It was like a benediction. His heart warmed as though it had been his mother's hand there.

"Don," she said, as naturally as though she had been saying it all her life, "I don't know much about you in one way. But I like your face and I like your eyes. I go a lot by a man's eyes. More'n that, I know Sally, and there was never a finer, honester girl made than she is.

If she has let you go as far as this, I don't think I'd worry myself to death."

"That's the trouble," he answered. "She didn't let me go as far as this. I--I just went."

Mrs. Halliday smiled again.

"Mebbe you think so," she admitted.

"You see--" he stammered.

But at that moment he heard a rustle of skirts behind him. There stood Sally herself--her cheeks very red, with a bit of a frown above her eyes. It was Mrs. Halliday who saved the day.

"Here, now, you two," she stormed as she went back to her biscuit board. "Both of you clear out of here until breakfast is ready. You belong outdoors where the birds are singing."

"I'll set the table, Aunty," replied Sally grimly.

"You'll do nothing of the kind," replied Mrs. Halliday.

She crossed the room and, taking Sally by one arm she took Don by the other. She led them to the door.

"Out with you," she commanded.

Alone with her Don turned to seek Sally's eyes and saw the frown still there.

"I--I told her," he admitted; "I couldn't help it. I've been up for an hour and I had to talk to some one."

He took her arm.

"You've decided?" he asked.

His face was so tense, his voice so eager, that it was as much as she could do to remain vexed. Still, she resented the fact that he had spoken to her aunt without authority. It was a presumption that seemed to take for granted her answer. It was as though he thought only one answer possible.

"Heart of me," he burst out, "you've decided?"

"You--you had no right to tell her," she answered.

"Come down the road a bit," he pleaded.

He led her down the path and along the country road between fields wet with dew. The air was clean and sweet and the sky overhead a spotless blue. It was the freshest and cleanest world he had ever seen and she was one with it.

"I only told her what she already knew," he said.

"She knew?"

He spoke in a lower voice--a voice gentle and trembling.

"She said you came in last night after she had gone asleep--"

Sally covered her face with her hands.

"Oh," she gasped, "she--she told you that?"

He reached up and gently removed her hands. He held them tight in both of his.

"It was good of you to think of me like that. It was like you," he said.

All the while he was drawing her nearer and nearer to him. She resisted. At least she thought she was resisting, but it didn't seem to make any difference. Nearer his eyes came to hers; nearer his lips came to hers. She gave a quick gasp as one before sudden danger. Then she felt his warm lips against hers and swayed slightly. But his arms were about her. They were strong about her, so that, while she felt as though hanging dizzily over a precipice, she at the same moment never felt safer in her life. With his lips against her lips, she closed her eyes until, to keep from losing herself completely, she broke free. Her cheeks scarlet, her breath coming short, her eyes like stars, she stared at him a moment, and then like a startled fawn turned and ran for the house. He followed, but her feet were tipped with wings. He did not catch her until she had burst into the kitchen, where in some fear Mrs. Halliday gathered her into her arms.

"She hasn't answered me even yet," he explained to Mrs. Halliday.

"Oh, Don," cried the trembling girl, her voice smothered in Mrs.

Halliday's shoulder. "You dare say that after--"

"Well, after what?" demanded Mrs. Halliday.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

BARTON APPEARS

The details of the wedding Mrs. Halliday decided to take over into her own hands.

"You two can just leave that to me," she informed them.

"But look here," protested Don, "I don't see why we need bother with a lot of fuss and--"

"What business is this of yours?" Mrs. Halliday challenged him.

"Only we haven't much time," he warned.