ck veranda and
dream. Sometimes he had company. Brookville was a hot little village,
with a long line of hills cutting off the south wind, but on that
back veranda of the old parsonage there was always a breeze.
Sometimes it seemed mysterious to Wesley, that breeze. It never
failed in the hottest days. Now that the parsonage was vacant, women
often came there with their needlework of an afternoon, and sat and
sewed and chatted. Wesley knew of the custom, and had made them
welcome. But sometimes of a morning a girl came. Wesley wondered if
she would be there that morning. After he had left the field, he
plunged knee-deep through the weedage of his predecessor's garden,
and heart-deep into luxuriant ranks of dewy vegetables which he, in
the intervals of his mental labors, should raise for his own table.
Wesley had an inherent love of gardening which he had never been in a
position to gratify. Wesley was, in fancy, eating his own green peas
and squashes and things when he came in sight of the back veranda. It
was vacant, and his fancy sank in his mind like a plummet of lead.
However, he approached, and the breeze of blessing greeted him like a
presence.

The parsonage was a gray old shadow of a building. Its walls were
stained with past rains, the roof showed depressions, the veranda
steps were unsteady, in fact one was gone. Wesley mounted and seated
himself in one of the gnarled old rustic chairs which defied weather.
From where he sat he could see a pink and white plumage of blossoms
over an orchard; even the weedy garden showed lovely lights under the
triumphant June sun. Butterflies skimmed over it, always in pairs,
now and then a dew-light like a jewel gleamed out, and gave a
delectable thrill of mystery. Wesley wished the girl were there. Then
she came. He saw a flutter of blue in the garden, then a face like a
rose overtopped the weeds. The sunlight glanced from a dark head,
giving it high-lights of gold.

The girl approached. When she saw the minister, she started, but not
as if with surprise; rather as if she had made ready to start. She
stood at the foot of the steps, glowing with blushes, but still not
confused. She smiled with friendly confidence. She was very pretty
and she wore a delicious gown, if one were not a woman, to observe
the lack of fashion and the faded streaks, and she carried a little
silk work-bag.

Wesley rose. He also blushed, and looked more confused than the girl.
"Good morning, Miss D