"Oh, Peter--why ask me? It sounds pleasant and--and like you." She suddenly seemed to see him going on with this new work--without her. The thought brought a wistful look into her face. Barry Wallace read it there.
"Nancy, I'm afraid I sort of made a mess of things--the other night. When you told me you were going away--I lost my head. Tell me--you said you'd always care more for your work than for anything or anyone else--couldn't you share your work? Like I'd like to share mine?"
Nancy lifted a protesting hand that Barry promptly imprisoned in both of his own.
"Oh, Peter, don't repeat all that--silly stuff--I said."
"Didn't you mean it, Nancy?" Barry cried.
"I meant it--then. But that was--young." Barry could not know that she was using the master's words. "I know--I think--that--that----"
Nancy looked wildly around. She wanted to run away, but Barry Wallace was holding her hand very tight.
"That--I'll work better if--that--oh, I'm just glad you came back," and Nancy could not have said anything more, for her face was smothered against Barry's shoulder.
After a little, Barry had to hear all about the rejected manuscript, the master's letter and the redemption of the Hopworth's. There in the sun-lit orchard a golden world seemed to stretch around them.
"How foolish we used to be," laughed Nancy, with a rapturous sigh. "I never doubted but that my first play was going to make my fortune."
"And I, after facing death in every one of its worst forms, ran away from a pack of fussy women," added Barry.
"Never mind, let's bury those two children out here under the apple trees and begin real work----"
"Finding the little things to do in our very own corner," added Nancy, dreamily.
Across the twilight stillness came the familiar whistle that had been the special signal among the three chums at college.
"It's the girls," cried Nancy. "Let's go back. I can't bear to have them come here--just now. It's--it's----" she blushed, but met his eyes squarely. "I want this to be--just ours--for awhile."
As they walked slowly back to the house, Nancy stopped suddenly in the path.
"Doesn't Happy House look beautiful?" she whispered. And in fact the fading glow of the sun was touching the old walls with a shadowy beauty.