"'Never' is a big word," she said finally. "It isn't best to say 'never' about anything in this life."
"Then you won't ask me to say it?" His voice was eager.
"I don't. There was never anything surer than that. Give me your hand--chum."
He had pulled off his own glove; he now gently drew off hers, and the two warm hands clasped. "Here's our everlasting friendship," he said, with a little thrill in his low voice. "Nothing shall come between us except--love."
"Jimps! That's not the old compact at all."
"It's the new one then. Isn't it sufficiently ambiguous to suit you?"
"Perhaps you'd better leave it as it is," she admitted, recognizing danger.
He held her hand for a minute in such a close grasp that it hurt her, but she did not wince. Ah! if she might just have this pleasantly satisfying relation with the man whose presence in her life meant warmth and light and even happiness on the hard road of everyday routine, and then have somehow besides the contentment which comes of accomplishment along a line of chosen activity--and still remain free for whatever God in heaven might send her of real joy, she could ask no better.
"Jimps, I'm perfectly contented," she said radiantly, as they walked on.
"Your promise to earn your money making rugs--with me to help you."
"Oh, how absurd! You haven't time, if there were no other reason."
He did not answer, and, since they were now back in the village and nearing the object of Georgiana's errand, no more was said until they were once again on their way homeward. They walked in silence until they reached the very doorstep of the manse. Then Stuart made one more protest.
"Not even to please me, George?" he asked, as she stood on the step above him, leading the way in to Jeannette and the warm fireside.
"Jimps, I'm sorry you feel that way about it. But I've talked with Father Davy and he agrees that it's a godsend. There's no reason in the world I could give Mr. Jefferson for refusing to help him when he needs it, and when I need it, too. Therefore--I'm sorry, Jimps, since you are so strange as to care--but I've made up my mind."
"You'll excuse me if I don't come in to-night," he said, and turned away.
She stood looking comprehendingly after him as he left her, then ran in and closed the door. The mood which held her now was so far from being black that it was rosy red.