always been the professor's way to set off at a day's notice. He had been a restless and insatiable traveler. But when it was known that his house was offered for rent, furnished, for three years, then people did wonder what was taking him away for so long a time. Nobody but Edward Balfoure knew. Bell Lawton suspected, but said nothing, and Susan did not so much as dream. She was surprised at herself, and had a half-guilty feeling that she did not more keenly regret his going. When she bade him good-by, she said, lightly:—
"Who knows where we shall meet next? Bell and I may run over next summer. We have talked of it."
"If I could think that, I should be very glad, indeed," replied the professor, earnestly. "But you will not come."
"What did he mean by that, Bell?" said Susan's after he had gone. "How does he know what we will do?"
Mrs. Lawton laughed, and skipping up to Susan's tide, kissed her on the forehead, and sang:—
"How does anybody know what anybody will do?
"'Wooed and married and a,'
Kissed and carried awa',
Is na the lassie well aff
That 's wooed and married and a'?'"
This chorus of an old Scotch ballad had been much on Mrs. Bell Lawton's lips of late.
