at, considering the
distance, he did not think it civil to gallop on ahead of me. But
suppose he should yet ask me where the melons came from--just suppose
it. Should I tell a lie, or should I tell him that I was not even
acting as teamster to oblige another? I took up the whip--then I
dropped it back into its socket. I had always known myself for, in my
quiet way, rather a proud girl, but--it--but--it was not this kind of
pride, and I had never before felt myself a coward. Because Mr.
Rutledge was a gentleman, was it any worse that he should know--

I drew in the reins sharply, and the team came to a standstill. The
sudden cessation of that fearful noise called to mind a line or two
that Jessie is fond of quoting: "And silence like a poultice comes, to
heal the blows of sound."

Mr. Rutledge again halted his horse, and turned on me an inquiring
look. My throat was dry and husky, and my voice sounded strange in my
own ears as I said, in answer to the look:

"I wanted to tell you, Mr. Rutledge, that we raised these melons
ourselves, and we are trying to sell them."

"Are you?"

His tone was very gentle. He regarded me and my dusty, wayworn outfit
silently for a space, then he said, this time with no laughter in his
voice:

"I take off my hat to you, Miss Leslie"--he suited the action to the
word--"and I thank you for teaching me anew the truth of the old
saying: 'True hearts are more than coronets, and simple worth than
Norman blood.'"

He replaced his hat with a sweeping bow, touched the black horse
lightly with a spurred heel, and was gone. The tears were in my eyes
as I watched the little swirl of dust raised by his horse's hoofs
settle back to place. I had not deserved praise, but it was something
to feel that others understood how hard and distasteful was this
bitter task, and I was glad to remember that he had not added to my
humiliation by offering to buy my melons. I meant to sell them all
before returning home now, and I did, but it was a long day's work,
and when I reached home I had only five dollars to show for it. "He"
had been chiefly absent from home, and I had booked many promises.

Jessie and Ralph met me at the gate as I drove up. Jessie was
interested and anxious.

"Why, you have sold all the melons!" Jessie exclaimed, glancing into
the wagon-box, and narrowly escaping being knocked over by Guard, as
he sprang down from the seat. "You have had good luck, Leslie."

"Good luck doesn't mean