“I shall have something to tell you in the this evening,” said the Story Girl at breakfast one morning. Her eyes were very bright and excited. She looked as if she had not slept a great deal. She had spent the previous evening with Miss Reade and had not returned until the rest of us were in bed. Miss Reade had finished giving music lessons and was going home in a few days. Cecily and Felicity were in despair over this and mourned as those without comfort. But the Story Girl, who had been even more to Miss Reade than either of them, had not, as I noticed, expressed any regret and seemed to be very cheerful over the whole matter.  
“Why can’t you tell it now?” asked Felicity.
 
“Because the evening is the nicest time to tell things in. I only mentioned it now so that you would have something interesting to look forward to all day.”
 
“Is it about Miss Reade?” asked Cecily.
 
“Never mind.”
 
“I’ll bet she’s going to be married,” I exclaimed, remembering the ring.
 
“Is she?” cried Felicity and Cecily together.
 
The Story Girl threw an annoyed glance at me. She did not like to have her dramatic announcements .
 
“I don’t say that it is about Miss Reade or that it isn’t. You must just wait till the evening.”
 
“I wonder what it is,” speculated Cecily, as the Story Girl left the room.
 
“I don’t believe it’s much of anything,” said Felicity, beginning to clear away the breakfast dishes. “The Story Girl always likes to make so much out of so little. Anyhow, I don’t believe Miss Reade is going to be married. She hasn’t any beaus around here and Mrs. Armstrong says she’s sure she doesn’t correspond with anybody. Besides, if she was she wouldn’t be likely to tell the Story Girl.”
 
“Oh, she might. They’re such friends, you know,” said Cecily.
 
“Miss Reade is no better friends with her than she is with me and you,” retorted Felicity.
 
“No, but sometimes it seems to me that she’s a different kind of friend with the Story Girl than she is with me and you,” reflected Cecily. “I can’t just explain what I mean.”
 
“No wonder. Such nonsense,” Felicity. “It’s only some girl’s secret, anyway,” said Dan, loftily. “I don’t feel much interest in it.”
 
But he was on hand with the rest of us that evening, interest or no interest, in Uncle Stephen’s Walk, where the apples were beginning to glow like jewels among the .
 
“Now, are you going to tell us your news?” asked Felicity impatiently.
 
“Miss Reade IS going to be married,” said the Story Girl. “She told me so last night. She is going to be married in a fortnight’s time.”
 
“Who to?” exclaimed the girls.
 
“To”—the Story Girl threw a glance at me as if to say, “You can’t spoil the surprise of THIS, anyway,”—“to—the Awkward Man.”
 
For a few moments held us dumb.
 
“You’re not in earnest, Sara Stanley?” Felicity at last.
 
“Indeed I am. I thought you’d be astonished. But I wasn’t. I’ve suspected it all summer, from little things I’ve noticed. Don’t you remember that evening last spring when I went a piece with Miss Reade and told you when I came back that a story was growing? I guessed it from the way the Awkward Man looked at her when I stopped to speak to him over his garden fence.”
 
“But—the Awkward Man!” said Felicity helplessly. “It doesn’t seem possible. Did Miss Reade tell you HERSELF?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“I suppose it must be true then. But how did it ever come about? He’s SO shy and awkward. How did he ever manage to get up enough to ask her to marry him?”
 
“Maybe she asked him,” suggested Dan.
 
The Story Girl looked as if she might tell if she would.
 
“I believe that WAS the way of it,” I said, to draw her on.
 
“Not exactly,” she said reluctantly. “I know all about it but I can’t tell you. I guessed part from things I’ve seen—and Miss Reade told me a good deal—and the Awkward Man himself told me his side of it as we came home last night. I met him just as I left Mr. Armstrong’s and we were together as far as his house. It was dark and he just talked on as if he were talking to himself—I think he forgot I was there at all, once he got started. He has never been shy or awkward with me, but he never talked as he did last night.”
 
“You might tell us what he said,” urged Cecily. “We’d never tell.”
 
The Story Girl shook her head.
 
“No, I can’t. You wouldn’t understand. Besides, I couldn’t tell it just right. It’s one of the things that are hardest to tell. I’d spoil it if I told it—now. Perhaps some day I’ll be able to tell it properly. It’s very beautiful—but it might sound very ridiculous if it wasn’t told just exactly the right way.”
 
“I don’t know what you mean, and I don’t believe you know yourself,” said Felicity . “All that I can make out is that Miss Reade is going to marry Jasper Dale, and I don’t like the idea one bit. She is so beautiful and sweet. I thought she’d marry some dashing young man. Jasper Dale must be nearly twenty years older than her—and he’s so queer and shy—and such a .”
 
“Miss Reade is happy,” said the Story Girl. “She thinks the Awkward Man is lovely—and so he is. You don’t know him, but I do.”
 
“Well, you needn’t put on such airs about it,” sniffed Felicity.
 
“I am not putting on any airs. But it’s true. Miss Reade and I are the only people in Carlisle who really know the Awkward Man. Nobody else ever got behind his shyness to find out just what sort of a man he is.”
 
“When are they to be married?” asked Felicity.
 
“In a fortnight’s time. And then they are coming right back to live at Golden . Won’t it be lovely to have Miss Reade always so near us?”
 
“I wonder what she’ll think about the mystery of Golden Milestone,” remarked Felicity.
 
Golden Milestone was the beautiful name the Awkward Man had given his home; and there was a mystery about it, as re............