Some one was tossing stones in at her window.
She slipped out of bed, ran, and leaned on the window-sill and looked out.

The moon was going down behind the hill, but there was light enough for her to distinguish objects.

She saw a dark figure crouching by the fence.
"Who is it ?" said Betty, a little frightened, but more curious.
"Sh-h-h, it's Miller," came the answer, spoken in low voice.
The bent form straightened and stood erect.

It stepped forward under Betty's window.

The light was dim, but Betty recognized the dark face of Miller.