Not till then did it occur to him that Laura Lou must be dreadfully tired. He ought to have thought of it before. He was dismayed to see how high they had climbed; but as they set out on the long descent her gay voice kept on assuring him that, no, she was feeling first-rate, that she'd loved every minute of it, she had, really … and, oh, Vanny, look, there was the new moon: did he see it? Like a diamond brooch, up in the branches there—and over their right shoulders too! What luck! … Her tone reassured him, and he laughed and kissed her, slipping his arm about her to help her down the endless windings. It was dark night when they reached the cottage, cold and hungry. Vance fumbled under the mat for the key and pushed her into the passage. How black the inside of the house was, and how cold! It had been fun, having the place all to themselves that morning; but now even Mrs. Tracy's dry disapproval would have been bearable, for the sake of a fire and supper.

Vance struck a match and reached for the hall lamp. As he turned back after lighting it he saw on the floor a telegram which had been thrust under the door in their absence. Laura Lou bent to pick it up. "I guess it's from Mother, to say what train she'll be back by." She opened the telegram, and stood looking at it with a puzzled frown. Then she read aloud: "'Dreadfully upset not seeing you yesterday what happened waited till nine must see you count on you same hour Monday. Please telegraph. Jet.' What a funny name!" she commented.

Vance put his hand out hastily. "Say—I guess that's mine."

"Who's it from?"

"Oh, just somebody I had an appointment with. I guess I forgot." She looked relieved, and he added: "Say—it's colder than blazes. I guess I forgot to make up the fire too, before we went out." He laughed at his own joke as he drew her into the kitchen. "There—you sit down and I'll fix things up in no time."