"You sit over there--" "I will if you'll call me, 'dear' again." "No," she said.

"I'll only call you that once again this summer--the night before you go away." "That will have to do, then," he laughed, "so long as I know we're engaged." "But we're not!" she protested.

"And we never will be, if you don't promise not to speak of it again until--until I tell you to!" "I won't promise that," said the happy George.

"I'll only promise not to speak of it till the next time you call me 'dear'; and you've promised to call me that the night before I leave for my senior year." "Oh, but I didn't!" she said earnestly, then hesitated.

"Did I ?" "Didn't you ?" "I don't think I meant it," she murmured, her wet lashes flickering above troubled eyes.
"I know one thing about you," he said gayly, his triumph increasing.
"You never went back on anything you said, yet, and I'm not afraid of this being the first time!" "But we mustn't let--" she faltered; then went on tremulously, "George, we've got on so well together, we won't let this make a difference between us, will we ?" And she joined in his laughter.
"It will all depend on what you tell me the night before I go away.