o that now!--"

But she nestled close to him, warding off wrath with both arms
clasping his, and looking up at him out of winning eyes in which but a
tormenting glint remained.

"You wouldn't rumple this very beautiful and brand new gown, would
you, darling? It was so frightfully expensive--"

"I don't care--"

"Oh, but you must care. You must _become_ thrifty and shrewd and
devious and close, or you'll never make a successful farmer--"

"Dearest, that's nonsense. What do I know about farming?"

"Nothing yet. But you know what a wonderful man you are. Never forget
that, Clive--"

"If you don't stop laughing at me, you little wretch--"

"Don't you want me to remain young?" she asked reproachfully, while
two tiny demons of gaiety danced in her eyes. "If I can't laugh I'll
grow old. And there's nothing very funny here except you and
Hafiz--Oh, Clive! You _have_ rumpled me! Please don't do it again!
Yes--yes--_yes!_ I do surrender! I _am_ sorry--that you are so
funny--Clive! You'll ruin this gown!... I promise not to say another
disrespectful word.... I don't know whether I'll kiss you or
not--_Yes!_ Yes I will, dear. Yes, I'll do it tenderly--you heartless
wretch!--I tell you I'll do it tenderly.... Oh wait, Clive! Is Mrs.
Connor looking out of any window? Where's Connor? Are you sure he's
not in sight?... And I shouldn't care to have Hafiz see us. He's a
moral kitty--"

She pretended to look fearfully around, then, with adorable
tenderness, she paid her forfeit and sat silent for a while with her
slim white fingers linked in his, in that breathless little revery
which always stilled her under the magic of his embrace.

He said at last: "Do you really suppose I could make this farm-land
pay?"

And that was really the beginning of it all.

* * * * *

Once decided he seemed to go rather mad about it, buying agricultural
paraphernalia recklessly and indiscriminately for a meditated assault
upon fields long fallow.

Connor already had as much as he could attend to in the garden; but,
like all Irishmen, he had a cousin, and the cousin possessed
agricultural lore and a pair of plough-horses.

So early fall ploughing developed into a mania with Clive and Athalie;
and they formed a habit of sitting side by side like a pair of birds
on fences in the early October sunshine, their fascinated eyes
following the brown furrows turning where one T. Phelan was breaking
up pasture and mea