“Don’t look so dreadfully unhappy, Larry.  It is over now, and of course I forgive you if you think there is anything to forgive.  I’m so thankful you didn’t quarrel with Ted.  I was awfully worried and so was Tony.  She watched the door every minute till you came back.”

“I suppose so,” groaned Larry.  “I made one horrible mess of everything for you all.  Are you ready to go?”

“I’d like to dance with you once first, Larry, if—­if you would like to.”

“Would I like to!” Larry’s face lost its mantle of gloom, was sudden sunshine all over.  “Will you really dance with me—­after the rotten way I’ve behaved?”

“Of course, I will.  I wanted to all the time, but I was afraid.  But when Ted made me it all came back and I loved it, only it was you I wanted to dance with most.  You know that, don’t you, Larry, dear?” The last word was very low, scarcely more than a breath, but Larry heard it and it nearly undid him.  A flood of long-pent endearments trembled on his lips.  But Ruth held up a hand of warning.

“Don’t, Larry.  We mustn’t spoil it.  We’ve got to remember the ring.”

“Damn the ring!” he exploded.  “I beg your pardon.”  Larry was genuinely shocked at his own bad manners.  “I don’t know why I’m such a brute tonight.  Let’s dance.”

And to the delight and relief of the younger Holidays, Larry and Ruth joined the dancers.

The dance over, they made their farewells.  Larry guided Ruth down the slope, his arm around her ostensibly for her support, and helped her into the canoe.  Once more they floated off over the quiet water, under the quiet stars.  But their young hearts were anything but quiet.  Their love was no longer an unacknowledged thing.  Neither knew just what was to be done with it; but there it was in full sight, as both admitted in joy and trepidation and silence.

As Larry held open the door for her to step inside the quiet hall he bent over the girl a moment, taking both her hands in his.  Then he drew away abruptly and bolted into the living room, leaving her to grope her way up stairs in the dark alone.

“I wonder,” she murmured to herself later as she stood before her mirror shaking out her rippling golden locks from their confining net.  “I wonder if it would have been so terrible if he had kissed me just that once.  Sometimes I wish he weren’t quite so—­so Holidayish.”

CHAPTER XIX

TWO HOLIDAYS MAKE CONFESSION

The next evening Doctor Holiday listened to a rather elaborate argument on the part of his older nephew in favor of the latter’s leaving Dunbury immediately in pursuit of his specialist training that he had planned to go in for eventually.

“You are no longer contented here with me—­with us?” questioned the older man when the younger had ended his exposition.

Larry’s quick ear caught the faint hurt in his uncle’s voice and hastened to deny the inference.