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 the Wallbridge paper he subscribed to; a picture of Sheilah from the Sunday edition of a Boston paper; the notes she had written him in the high school—five in all; and a copy of the only letter he had ever written her. There had been no answer to that only letter. He wished now he had never written it. But the uncertainty that had stretched on and on after Sheilah had disappeared from the height beside him had been so awful.

Felix glanced away from the little collection in the bright circle before him, and gazed into a dark corner of the room, as his thoughts turned back to the long dark silence that had followed that night with Sheilah in the ice-house. She hadn't come to church the next day, nor to school on Monday. Somebody had said that she was sick. Night after night he had walked by her house during that first two weeks of wondering. Then one day at school he overheard somebody say that Sheilah Miller had gone away to boarding-school. Still Felix walked by Sheilah's house, even after it was barred and shuttered for the summer. The Millers took Sheilah to Europe on the first of June. They took her directly from her boarding-school to the dock in New York.

It was Felix's mother who told him that the Millers had gone to Europe for the summer. She had heard about it at church. No. It hadn't been mentioned when they were coming back. All during July