She rapidly told her aunt all that had happened, and Mrs. Wackernagel’s bright, eager face of delight expressed all the sympathy and affection which Tillie craved from her, but which the Mennonite dared not utter.

“Aunty Em, no matter where I go or what may befall me, I shall never forget your love and kindness.  I shall remember it always, always.”

Aunty Em’s emotions were stronger, for the moment, than her allegiance to the Rules, and her motherly arms drew the girl to her bosom and held her there in a long, silent embrace.

She refrained, however, from kissing her; and presently Tillie drew herself away and, dashing the tears from her eyes, went out of the house by the back kitchen door.  From here she made her way, in a roundabout fashion, to the rear entrance of the store-keeper’s house across the road, for she was quite sure that her father had gone into the store in search of her.

Cautiously stepping into the kitchen, she found Fairchilds restlessly pacing the floor, and he greeted her return with a look of mingled pleasure and apprehension.

“Your father is out front, in the store, Tillie,” he whispered, coming close to her.  “He’s looking for you.  He doesn’t know I’m in town, of course.  Come outside and I ’ll tell you our plan.”

He led the way out of doors, and they sought the seclusion of a grape-arbor far down the garden.

“We’ll leave it to the Doc to entertain your father,” Fairchilds went on; “you will have to leave here with me to-night, Tillie, and as soon as possible, for your father will make trouble for us.  We may as well avoid a conflict with him—­especially for your sake.  For myself, I shouldn’t mind it!” He smiled grimly.

He was conscious, as his eyes rested on Tillie’s fair face under the evening light, of a reserve in her attitude toward him that was new to her.  It checked his warm impulse to take her hands in his and tell her how glad he was to see her again.

“How can we possibly get away to-night?” she asked him.  “There are no stages until the morning.”

“We shall have to let the Doc’s fertile brain solve it for us, Tillie.  He has a plan, I believe.  Of course, if we have to wait until morning and fight it out with your father, then we’ll have to, that’s all.  But I hope that may be avoided and that we may get away quietly.”

They sat in silence for a moment.  Suddenly Fairchilds leaned toward her and spoke to her earnestly.

“Tillie, I want to ask you something.  Please tell me—­why did you never answer my letters?”

She lifted her startled eyes to his.  “Your letters?”

“Yes.  Why didn’t you write to me?”

“You wrote to me?” she asked incredulously.

“I wrote you three times.  You don’t mean to tell me you never got my letters?”

“I never heard from you.  I would—­I would have been so glad to!”

“But how could you have missed getting them?”