“Supper’s ready and company come,” Jasper came to the front door to announce for the third time, but this time with the unctuous voice of delight that a guest always inspires in him.  I promptly went in to welcome my materialized desire whoever it happened to be.

The Crag was standing by the window in the half light that came, partly from the candles in their tall old silver candlesticks that were Grandmother Shelby’s, and partly from the last glow of the sun down over the ridge.  That was what I needed!

“I was coming in from the fields across your back yard and I saw the table lighted and you on the front porch, star-gazing, and—­and I got Jasper to invite me.” he said as he came over and drew out my chair on one side of that wide square table, while Jasper stood waiting to seat him at the other, about a mile away.

“I wanted you,” I answered him stupidly, as I sank into my place and leaned my elbows on the table so I could drop my warm cheeks into my hands comfortably.  I didn’t see why I should be blushing.

“That’s the reason I came then,” he answered, as he looked at me across the bowl of musk roses that were sending out waves of sweetness to meet those that were coming in from the honeysuckle climbing over the window.  “If you were ever lonely and needed me, Evelina, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?” he asked, as he leaned towards me and regarded me still more closely.

And again those two treacherous tears rose and tangled themselves in my lashes, though I did shake them away quickly as a smile quivered its way to command of my mouth.  But I was not quick enough and he saw them.

And what he did was just what I wanted him to do!  He rose, picked up his chair and came around that huge old table and sat down at the corner just as near to my elbow as the steaming coffee pot would let him.

“If you wanted me any time, would you tell me, Evelina?” he insisted from this closer range.

“No, I wouldn’t,” I answered with a laugh.  “I would expect you to know it, and come just like you did to-night.”

“But—­but it was I that wanted you badly in this case,” he answered with an echo of the laugh.

But even under the laugh I saw signs of excitement in his deep eyes and his long, lean hands shook as they handed me his cup to pour the coffee.  Jasper had laid his silver and napkin in front of him and retired to admonish Petunia as to the exact crispness of her first waffle.

“What is it?” I asked breathlessly, as I moved the coffee pot from between us to the other side.

“Just a letter that came to me from the Democratic Headquarters in the City, that shook me up a bit and made me want to—­to tell you about it.  Nobody else can know—­I have been out on Old Harpeth all afternoon fighting that out, and telling you is the only thing I have allowed myself.”

“They want you to be the next Governor,” I said quickly.  “And you will be, too,” I added, again using that queer place in my brain that seems to know perfectly unknowable things and that only works in matters that concern him.