"Harry!" His name was wrenched from the girl's very heart by her surprise.

"Do you believe that I love you now?" demanded Boland.

"Yes. I didn't know, I didn't understand. I have wronged you ever since I have known you. Forgive me. But your father?"

"Let me call your attention to the fact," said Harry, planting himself firmly before her, "that I am many years past the age of seven--and can choose a wife for myself."

"But your father?" insisted Patience.

"Oh, he may rage and fume," retorted Harry, "but I have a standing of my own. I am president of the Lake City Electric Company that controls dad's patent light."

"My father was interested in electricity, too--before--"

But Harry interrupted her. "Never mind our fathers," he said. "We are the chief characters in this romance, you know."

They had reached the path leading to the Welcome cottage. Patience, eager to end the interview which had thrown her into a state of consternation, such as she had never experienced before, seized the present opportunity.

"Harry," she said, "please go. We are expecting father home and--I'm afraid--it won't be pleasant."

"You haven't answered me. I'm off to Chicago tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!" Patience caught her breath quickly.

"Yes, in my new car. I'm going to drive back. I've overstayed my time and there are business calls which I simply cannot ignore. I'll not insist on an answer tonight, but will you write me?"

The girl put out her hand which Harry grasped. Her lips quivered and she breathed, "Yes."

He lifted the hand to his lips, but the girl drew it from him, whispered "goodby" and darted away. He stood watching her until she disappeared.

Patience hurrying toward the cottage was roused from her tumult of emotion by the sound of voices. Once she heard the words "eight o'clock,"

without recognizing the speaker. When they were spoken again she knew the voice as that of Martin Druce. She disliked Druce. The thought of his being alone with Elsie chilled her.

She came toward him swiftly but in silence. Her question: "What did you say was going to happen at eight o'clock, Mr. Druce?" was a complete surprise.

"Eh--why--" stammered Druce, off his guard.

"Why Patience, how late you are," interrupted Elsie to conceal Druce's confusion.

"Just a little, dear," replied Patience, now confused herself. "I have been busy at the store." Then she turned to Druce again. "What is it about eight o'clock--is it something concerning Elsie?" she persisted.

"O, I was just saying that I had to meet a man at the hotel at eight,"

returned Druce, full of a.s.surance again.

"Ah!" said Patience, "well, you'll catch him all right--if you start now."

Druce laughed. "Here's your hat--what's your hurry, eh?"

"Patience, how can you?" demanded Elsie.

"I didn't mean to be rude," retorted Patience serenely, "only I wouldn't have him miss that man."

"Oh, I can take a hint." Druce started for the gate. As he reached it he turned back to the two girls and added:

"I sure hope that man keeps his appointment to meet me at eight o'clock."

CHAPTER VII

HARRY BOLAND HEARS FROM HIS FATHER

Harry Boland strode away from his interview with Patience deeply occupied with tumultuous reflections, not seeing the beauties of Millville which, but a short time before, he had been enthusiastically celebrating. He was, in fact, a young man walking in a dream. Every word the girl had uttered, every inflection of her voice, the involuntary confession of affection won from her by his own no less sudden avowal of love, projected themselves against his excited mind with all the vividness of kinetoscope pictures. He was very happy with these reflections that come to the youth in love when a familiar voice suddenly recalled him to mundane things.

"h.e.l.lo, there Harry," said the voice.

It was Grogan's.

"h.e.l.lo," replied Harry, roused but not displeased to meet his father's intimate political adviser in this part of the world, "what are you doing in this part of Illinois?"

"I'm on my way home," replied Grogan, laconically.

"Ah, yes, Dad wrote me. You went to Kansas City, didn't you?"

"I did. Your father caught me on the wire at St. Louis."

"What did the governor want?"

"Nothing much. He told me you were here and suggested that I meet you. He thought it would be pleasant for us both to have company home."

It dawned on Harry that perhaps his father had not been quite disinterested in this.

"You're a good politician, Mike," he said shortly.

"Is that a compliment now, or a slander against my character?" Grogan demanded, smiling.

"Neither," replied Harry. "It's a fact."

"And why, might I ask, have you recalled it at this particular moment?"

"Because your conversation in this particular instance seemed to me to be that of a person who was concealing something. Politician's talk, Grogan, is specious, but notable for its reticence."

"Well, Harry," returned Grogan, "your own line of talk is not particularly illuminating, either."

"What do you mean, Mike?"

"Well, here I am, an old friend of your father's, mixed up with him in half a dozen deals. I've known you ever since you sat in a high chair and spooned gruel from a bowl. I come on you in this out of the way corner and you say never a word of why you're here, or what you're doing. I think Clam is your middle name."

"Why," replied Harry, "I came down to Millville to collect some rents."