of The White Cat, and in the autumn yielded a plentiful crop of fine-flavored fruit.  But now the trees were bare and the garden looked somewhat forlorn for lack of greenery.  But in spite of the lateness of the season, Lucy often brought a book to read under the glowing wall, and there ripened like a peach in the warm sunshine.  On this occasion she brought Archie into the old-world garden, as he had hinted at confidences.  And the time had come to speak plainly, as Hope began to think that he had not treated Lucy quite fairly in hiding from her his momentarily embarrassed position.

“Why can’t we marry at once?” asked Lucy, seeing that her lover held his peace and looked confused.

Hope did not reply directly.  “I had better release you from your engagement,” he said haltingly.

“Oh!” Lucy’s nostrils dilated and she threw back her head scornfully.  “And the other woman’s name?”

“There is no other woman.  I love you and you only.  But—­ money.”

“What about money?  You have your income!”

“Oh yes—­that is sure, small as it is.  But I have incurred debts on behalf of an uncle and his family.  These have embarrassed me for the moment, and so I cannot see my way to marrying you for at least six months, Lucy.”  He caught her hand.  “I feel ashamed of myself that I did not tell you of this before.  But I feared to lose you.  Yet, on reflection, I see that it is dishonorable to keep you in the dark, and if you think that I have behaved badly—­”

“Well, I do in a way,” she interrupted quickly, “as your silence was quite unnecessary.  Don’t treat me as a doll, my dear.  I wish to share your troubles as well as your joys.  Come, tell me all about it.”

“You are not angry?”

“Yes, I am—­at your thinking I loved you so little as to be biased against our marriage because of money troubles.  Pooh!” she flicked away a speck of dust from his coat, “I don’t care that for such things.”

“You are an angel,” he cried ardently.

“I am a very practical girl just now,” she retorted.  “Go on, confess!”

Archie, thus encouraged, did so, and it was a very mild confession that she heard, involving a great deal of unnecessary sacrifice in helping a pauper uncle.  Hope strove to belittle his good deeds as much as possible, but Lucy saw plainly the good heart that had dictated the giving up of his small income for some years.  When in possession of all the facts, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

“You are a silly old boy,” she whispered.  “As if what you tell me could make any difference to me!”

“But we can’t be married for six months, dearest.”

“Of course not.  Do you believe that I as a woman can gather together my trousseau under six months?  No, my dear.  We must not marry in haste to repent at leisure.  In another half year you will enjoy your own income, and then we can marry.”