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Miss Rosa was not there. She was a very regular attendant, but for some reason she was absent on this momentous afternoon. I did not say anything to him on the subject, but I knew he felt this absence deeply. But this cloud could not wholly overshadow his happiness. He walked home alone, his face beaming, his eyes sparkling, and his good bow under his arm. That evening I called on him, for I thought that when he had cooled down a little he would like to talk over the affair. But he was not in. Miss Maria said that he had gone out as soon as he had finished his dinner, which he had hurried through in a way which would certainly injure his digestion if he kept up the practice; and dinner was late, too, for they waited for him, and the archery meeting lasted a long time today; and it really was not right for him to stay out after the dew began to fall with only ordinary shoes on, for what’s the good of knowing how to shoot a bow and arrow, if you’re laid up in your bed with rheumatism or disease of the lungs? Good old lady! She would have kept Pepton in a green baize bag, had such a thing been possible. The next morning, full two hours before church-time, Pepton called on me. His face was still beaming. I could not help smiling. “Your happiness lasts well,” I said. “Lasts!” he exclaimed. “Why shouldn’t it last!” “There’s no reason why it should not–at least, for a week,” I said, “and even longer, if you repeat your success.” I did not feel so much like congratulating Pepton as I had on the previous evening. I thought he was making too much of his badge-winning. “Look here!” said Pepton, seating himself, and drawing his chair close to me, “you are shooting wild–very wild indeed. You don’t even see the target. Let me tell you something. Last evening I went to see Miss Rosa. She was delighted at my success. I had not expected this. I thought she would be pleased, but not to such a degree. Her congratulations were so warm that they set me on fire.” “They must have been very warm indeed,” I remarked. “`Miss Rosa,’ said I,” continued Pepton, without regarding my interruption, “`it has been my fondest hope to see you wear the badge.’ `But I never could get it, you know,’ she said. `You have got it,’ I exclaimed. `Take this. I won it for you. Make me happy by wearing it.’ `I can’t do that,’ she said. `That is a gentleman’s badge.’ `Take it,’ I cried, `gentleman and all!’ “I can’t tell you all that happened after that,” continued Pepton. “You know, it wouldn’t do. It is enough to say that she wears the badge. And we are both her own–the badge and I!” Now I congratulated him in good earnest. There was a reason for it. “I don’t owe a snap now for shooting an eagle,” said Pepton, springing to his feet and striding up and down the floor. “Let ’em all fly free for me. I have made the most glorious shot that man could make. I have hit the gold–hit it fair in the very centre! And what’s more, I’ve knocked it clean out of the target! Nobody else can ever make such a shot. The rest of you fellows will have to be content to hit the red, the blue, the black, or the white. The gold is mine!” I called on the old ladies, some time after this, and found them alone. They were generally alone in the evenings now. We talked about Pepton’s engagement, and I found them resigned. They were sorry to lose him, but they wanted him to be happy. “We have always known,” said Miss Martha, with a little sigh, “that we must die, and that he must get married. But we don’t intend to repine. These things will come to people.” And her little sigh was followed by a smile, still smaller.