“I can hear Adam barking,” said Lydia.  “Dad must have come home.  Take me back, Billy.”

“All right,” replied Billy.  “I will just as soon as you tell me something.”

Lydia looked up into his face.  “Not that just yet, please, Billy.  I must make things right with Dad and Kent.”

Billy seized her shoulders.  “Is there anything between you and Kent, Lydia?” he said, jealously.

“Not in words,” she answered, “but of course he’s gone ahead with my land deal, with the idea he’d share in it.”

Billy’s hands tightened on her shoulders.  “Dear,” Lydia went on pleadingly, “don’t spoil this perfect moment.  We must have this, always, no matter what comes.”

“Nothing can come,” replied Billy sternly.  “Give me your hand, little girl.  It’s getting cold in these woods.”

They walked back to the cottage in silence, hand in hand.  They paused at the gate and Lydia pointed through the dusk at the new moon.

“Let’s wish on it,” she said.  “Close your eyes, and wish.”

Billy closed his eyes.  A kiss as soft as the robin’s note fell on his lips and the gate clicked.  He opened his eyes and stood looking up the path long after the door closed, his hat in his hand.

Lydia wandered into the dining-room quite casually.

“For heaven’s sake, Lydia!” cried Amos.  “I was just going to start on a hunt for you!”

“I took a walk in the woods,” explained Lydia, “and was gone longer than I realized.”

“Supper’s ready.  Sit right down,” said Lizzie, looking at Lydia, intently.

Amos was absorbed in his own thoughts during the meal.  He and Kent had both been worried and absent minded, lately.  He paid no heed to the fact that Lydia only played with her food and that during the meal she smiled at nothing.  But old Lizzie, who had worried herself half sick over Lydia, watched her with growing curiosity.

“Seen Kent, to-day, Lydia?” she asked.

After a moment—­“Did you speak to me, Lizzie?” Lydia inquired.

“Yes, I did.  I asked if you’d seen Kent to-day.”

“I?  No, I haven’t seen Kent.  We had a quiz in chemistry, to-day.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” grunted Lizzie.  But she asked no more questions.

Ma Norton came over during the evening to borrow some yeast.  Amos was working over some figures on a bit of paper.  Lydia was sitting with a text book in front of her.  She had not turned a leaf in twenty minutes, to Lizzie’s actual count.

“Spring’s here,” said Ma.  “Though there’s still a bite in the air.  Not that Billy seems to notice it.  I found him sitting on the front steps with his cigar, as if it was June.”

Lizzie gave Lydia a quick look and wondered if she only imagined that her cheeks were turning pinker.

“I can’t sit down,” Ma went on, “I’ve got to set this sponge to rise.”