It was after half-past nine when the great festivities at theDeacon's broke up, and John strode home with Cynthia over the shiningcrust and under the stars. It was mostly a silent walk, for this wasalso an occasion when it is difficult to find anything fit to say.And John was skinnyking all the way how he should bid Cynthia good-night; whether it would do and whether it wouldn't do, this not beinga game, and no forfeits attaching to it. When they reached the gate,there was an awkward little pause. John exclaimed the stars wereuncommonly bright. Cynthia did not deny it, but waited a minute andthen turned abruptly away, with "Good-night, John!"