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“Alicia!” he said.

“How do you do, Stephen?” she said tremulously.

And there he was looking down at her with an expression on his face that none of the Glenboro girls he had been calling on had ever seen. Jerry and I just simply melted away. We can see through grindstones when there are holes in them!

We went out and sat down on the stairs.

“There’s a mystery here,” said Jerry, “but Miss Ponsonby shall explain it to us before we let her climb up that acacia tree tonight. Now that I come to think of it, the first night he called he asked me about her. Wanted to know if her father were the same old blustering tyrant he always was, and if we knew her at all. I’m afraid I made a little mild fun of her, and he didn’t say anything more. Well, I’m awfully glad now that I didn’t fall in love with him. I could have, but I wouldn’t.”

Miss Ponsonby’s appearance at the Hubbards’ party was the biggest sensation Glenboro had had for years. And in her way, she was a positive belle. She didn’t dance, but all the middle-aged men, widowers, wedded, and bachelors, who had known her in her girlhood crowded around her, and she laughed and chatted as I hadn’t even imagined Miss Ponsonby could laugh and chat. Jerry and I revelled in her triumph, for did we not feel that it was due to us? At last Miss Ponsonby disappeared; shortly after Jerry and I blundered into the library to fix some obstreperous hairpins, and there we found her and Stephen Shaw in the cosy corner.

There were no explanations on the road home, for Miss Ponsonby walked behind us with Stephen Shaw in the pale, late-risen October moonshine. But when we had sneaked through the neighbour-to-the-left’s lane and reached our side verandah we waited for her, and as soon as Stephen Shaw had gone we laid violent hands on Miss Ponsonby and made her ‘fess up there on the dark, chilly verandah, at one o’clock in the morning.

“Miss Ponsonby,” said Jerry, “before we assist you in returning to those ancestral halls of yours you’ve simply got to tell us what all this means.”

Miss Ponsonby gave a little, shy, nervous laugh.

“Stephen Shaw and I were engaged to be married long ago,” she said simply. “But Father disapproved. Stephen was poor then. And so–and so–I sent him away. What else could I do?”–for Jerry had snorted–“Father had to be obeyed. But it broke my heart. Stephen went away–he was very angry–and I have never seen him since. When Susan Hubbard invited me to the party I felt as if I must go–I must see Stephen once more. I never thought for a minute that he remembered me–or cared still….”

“But he does?” said Jerry breathlessly. Jerry never scruples to ask anything right out that she wants to know.

“Yes,” said Miss Ponsonby softly. “Isn’t it wonderful? I could hardly believe it–I am so changed. But he said tonight he had never thought of any other woman. He–he came home to see me. But when I never went anywhere, even when I must know he was home, he thought I didn’t want to see him. If I hadn’t gone tonight–oh, I owe it all to you two dear girls!”

“When are you to be married?” demanded that terrible Jerry.

“As soon as possible,” said Miss Ponsonby. “Stephen was going away next week, but he says he will wait until I can get ready.”

“Do you think your father will object this time?” I queried.

“No, I don’t think so. Stephen is a rich man now, you know. That wouldn’t make any difference with me–but Father is very–practical. Stephen is going to see him tomorrow.”

“But what if he does object?” I persisted anxiously.

“The acacia tree will still be there,” said Miss Ponsonby firmly.