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The boy shifted in his chair, and laughed uneasily.

“Sally doesn’t want to,” he temporized, adding shyly, after a minute’s silence, “and I didn’t think you’d be in any hurry, dad!”

“But look here, son, you wrote that you planned being married in June!”

There was a pause. Then the boy said:

“I did think so; but now I don’t see how we can. Sally sees that, too. I can’t get married until I have a good job, and I’ve got another year here. We don’t want to tell every one and then have to wait two or three years, do we, sir?”

“H-m!” said his father. “And yet you don’t want to ask me to support you and your wife for indefinite years, Bud?”

Bud squeezed his father’s hand.

“I’ll never ask you to do that!” he promised promptly.

IV

A week drifted pleasantly over the college town, and still no definite step had been taken in the matter that had carried Anthony Fox over so many weary miles of country. If business matters in the Eastern city gave him any concern, he gave no sign of it to young Anthony or Sally, seeming entirely content with the passing moment.

The three were constantly together, except when the boy was in the class-room. During these intervals Miss Mix piloted her friend’s father over lovely Palo Alto; they visited museum and library together, took drives and walks. One long evening was spent at the Peppers’, where young Anthony was the centre of a buzzing and hilarious group, and where Sally, with her black evening gown and her violin, presented an entirely new phase.

On the evening of a certain glorious day, to young Anthony, sitting in silence on the porch steps, came Sally, who seated herself beside him.

“Tony,” said she, firmly, “what have we decided about our engagement?”

Young Anthony eyed her expectantly, almost nervously, but he did not speak.

“We must either announce it or NOT announce it, Tony!”

“Why, you see, Sally,” said Anthony, after a pause, “I wanted to, a while back, but–“

“I know you did,” she said heartily, to his great relief.

“But now,” he pursued slowly, “it would look pretty funny to the Rogerses, and the Peppers, and all, you know. JUST now, I mean. I’ve been up there all the time, right in things, and I’ve never said a word–“

“Well, well!” said a voice behind them; and to the unspeakable confusion of both, Jerry Billings rose from a porch chair and came down to them.

“I couldn’t help hearing,” explained that gentleman, joyously. “I was there first. I wish you joy, children. Miss Sally, here’s my best wishes! I never dreamed you two–and yet I knew SOMETHING had brought father all the way from New York. But I never dreamed of this! This ought to land me the Call job, all right! Hasn’t that occurred to either of you? Why, nobody has turned in anything to touch it!” He looked at his watch. “I had better be getting down there, too,” he said excitedly. “Tomorrow’s the first of May, by George! and I’ve got to get any stuff in by ten. And there I’ve been sitting, cursing my luck for an hour! Here goes!”

“Look here, Jerry,” began Sally and Anthony together, “look here–“

“You mean you don’t want it announced?” said Mr. Billings, blankly. A pained look clouded the radiance of his face. “Isn’t it TRUE?”

“We don’t wish it announced yet,” said Sally, feebly, as Anthony was silent.

“I call that pretty mean!” ejaculated Mr. Billings, after a pause. “It’s TRUE,” he went on aggrievedly. “I landed it–every old woman in town will be on to it in a few weeks–it’s a corking job for me–every one’s wondering what Mr. Fox is doing here–and now you two hang back, just because you’ve not had time to tell your friends! Aw, be sports,” he said ingratiatingly. “PLEASE, Miss Sally! I’d do as much for you two. You know I may not be able to make it at all, next year, if I haven’t a job! I can have it, can’t I? I get it, don’t I, Tony? What do you two care–you’ve got what YOU want–“