sun together to-morrow?
Say, we shall. Shall we? A good long day in the sun and nobody looking at
me 's my pleasure."

Rhoda gave him the assurance, and he turned and went upstairs with her,
docile at the prospect of hours to be passed in the sunlight.

Yet, when morning came, he had disappeared. Robert also was absent from
the breakfast-table. The farmer made no remarks, save that he reckoned
Master Gammon was right--in allusion to the veteran's somnolent
observation overnight; and strange things were acted before his eyes.

There came by the morning delivery of letters one addressed to "Miss
Fleming." He beheld his daughters rise, put their hands out, and claim
it, in a breath; and they gazed upon one another like the two women
demanding the babe from the justice of the Wise King. The letter was
placed in Rhoda's hand; Dahlia laid hers on it. Their mouths were shut;
any one not looking at them would have been unaware that a supreme
conflict was going on in the room. It was a strenuous wrestle of their
eyeballs, like the "give way" of athletes pausing. But the delirious beat
down the constitutional strength. A hard bright smile ridged the hollow
of Dahlia's cheeks. Rhoda's dark eyes shut; she let go her hold, and
Dahlia thrust the letter in against her bosom, snatched it out again, and
dipped her face to roses in a jug, and kissing Mrs. Sumfit, ran from the
room for a single minute; after which she came back smiling with gravely
joyful eyes and showing a sedate readiness to eat and conclude the
morning meal.

What did this mean? The farmer could have made allowance for Rhoda's
behaving so, seeing that she notoriously possessed intellect; and he had
the habit of charging all freaks and vagaries of manner upon intellect.

But Dahlia was a soft creature, without this apology for extravagance,
and what right had she to letters addressed to "Miss Fleming?" The farmer
prepared to ask a question, and was further instigated to it by seeing
Mrs. Sumfit's eyes roll sympathetic under a burden of overpowering
curiosity and bewilderment. On the point of speaking, he remembered that
he had pledged his word to ask no questions; he feared to--that was the
secret; he had put his trust in Rhoda's assurance, and shrank from a
spoken suspicion. So, checking himself, he broke out upon Mrs. Sumfit:
"Now, then, mother!" which caused her to fluster guiltily, she having
likewise given her oath to be totally unquestioning, even as was Mast