And, “Yes, I do!” she said, defiant.  “And I think this ought to teach you what a comrade’s perfect confidence can be.  Never complain to me of my want of trust in you again.”

In astonished and uneasy silence, I stood listening.  The unseen pool rippled in the darkness with a silvery sound, as though a great fish were swirling there in the pallid lustre of the stars.

After a while she laughed outright—­ the light, mischievous laughter of a child.

“I feel like one of those smooth and lurking naiads which haunt lost pools—­ or like some ambushed water-sprite meditating malice, and slyly alert to do you a harm.  Have a care, else I transform you into a fish and chase you under the water, and pinch and torment you!”

And presently her voice came again from the more distant darkness somewhere: 

“Has the box which you commanded arrived yet, Euan?”

“It is at my hut.  A wagon will bring it to you in the morning.”

I could hear her clap her wet little hands; and she cried out softly: 

“Oh!” and “Oh!” Then she said:  “I did not understand at first how much I wished for everything you offered.  Only when I saw the ladies at Croghan’s house, as I was coming with my mending from the fort—­ then I knew I wanted everything you have bespoken for me....  Everything, dear lad!  Oh, you don’t know how truly grateful I shall be.  No, you don’t, Euan!  And if the box is really come, when am I going with you to be made known to Mistress Bleecker?”

“I think it is better that I first bring her to you.”

“Would she condescend to come?”

“I think so.”

There was a pause.  I seated myself.  Then the soft and indecisive sound of ripples stirred by an idle hand broke the heated silence.

“You say they all are your good friends?” she remarked thoughtfully.

“I know them all.  Lana Helmer I have known intimately since we were children.”

“Then why is it not better to present me to her first—­ if you know her so very well?”

“Mrs. Bleecker is older.”

“Oh!  Is this Miss Helmer then so young?”

“Your age.”

“Oh!  My age....  And pretty?”

“The world thinks so.”

“Oh!  And what do you think, Euan?”

“Yes, she is pretty,” said I carelessly.

There was a long silence.  I sat there, my knees gathered in my arms, staring up at the stars.

Then, faintly came her voice: 

“Good-night, Euan.”

I rose, laid hold of the willow bush that scraped my shoulders, felt over it until I found the dangling broken branch; stepped forward, groping, until I touched the next broken branch.  Then, knowing I was on my trail, I turned around and called back softly through the darkness: 

“Good-night, little Lois!”

“Good-night, and sweet dreams, Euan.  I will be dressed and waiting for you in the morning to go to Mrs. Bleecker, or to receive her as you and she think fitting....  Is there a looking glass in that same wonder-box?”