As he slipped away, Barker felt his heart sink.  Carter had not only bluntly forestalled him with the news and taken away his excuse for a confidential interview, but had put an ostentatious construction on his visit.  What could she think of him now?  He stood ashamed and embarrassed before her.

But Miss Kitty, far from noticing his embarrassment in a sudden concern regarding the “horrid” untidiness of the room, which made her cheeks quite pink in one spot and obliged her to take up and set down in exactly the same place several articles, was exceedingly delighted.  In fact, she did not remember ever having been so pleased before in her life!  These things were always so unexpected!  Just like the weather, for instance.  It was quite cool last night—­and now it was just stifling.  And so dusty!  Had Mr. Barker noticed the heat coming from the Gulch?  Or perhaps, being a rich man, he—­with a dazzling smile—­was above walking now.  It was so kind of him to come here first and tell her father.

“I really wanted to tell only—­you, Miss Carter,” stammered Barker.  “You see—­” he hesitated.  But Miss Kitty saw perfectly.  He wanted to tell her, and, seeing her, he asked for her father!  Not that it made the slightest difference to her, for her father would have been sure to have told her.  It was also kind of her father to invite him to luncheon.  Otherwise she might not have seen him before he left Boomville.

But this was more than Barker could stand.  With the same desperate directness and simplicity with which he had approached her father, he now blurted out his whole heart to her.  He told her how he had loved her hopelessly from the first time that they had spoken together at the church picnic.  Did she remember it?  How he had sat and worshiped her, and nothing else, at church!  How her voice in the church choir had sounded like an angel’s; how his poverty and his uncertain future had kept him from seeing her often, lest he should be tempted to betray his hopeless passion.  How as soon as he realized that he had a position, that his love for her need not make her ridiculous to the world’s eyes, he came to tell her all.  He did not even dare to hope!  But she would hear him at least, would she not?

Indeed, there was no getting away from his boyish, simple, outspoken declaration.  In vain Kitty smiled, frowned, glanced at her pink cheeks in the glass, and stopped to look out of the window.  The room was filled with his love—­it was encompassing her—­and, despite his shy attitude, seemed to be almost embracing her.  But she managed at last to turn upon him a face that was now as white and grave as his own was eager and glowing.

“Sit down,” she said gently.

He did so obediently, but wonderingly.  She then opened the piano and took a seat upon the music stool before it, placed some loose sheets of music in the rack, and ran her fingers lightly over the keys.  Thus intrenched, she let her hands fall idly in her lap, and for the first time raised her eyes to his.