"

"He's a regular old skinflint!" cried Mark, getting out of the wagon and
walking beside her.

"You mustn't call him names," Patty interposed with some dignity. "I
call him a good many myself, but I'm his daughter."

"You don't look it," said Mark admiringly. "Come and have a little ride,
Won't you?"

"Oh, I couldn't possibly, thank you. Some one would be sure to see us,
and father's so strict."

"There isn't a building for half a mile! Just jump in and have a spin
till we come to the first house; then I'll let you out and you can walk
the rest of the way home. Come, do, and make up to me a little for my
disappointment. I'll skip the candy-pull if you say the word."

It was an incredibly brief drive, at Mark's rate of speed; and as
exciting and blissful as it was brief and dangerous, Patty thought.
Did she imagine it, or did Mark help her into the wagon differently
from--old Dr. Perry, for instance?

The fresh breeze lifted the gold thread of her curls and gave her cheeks
a brighter color, while her breath came fast through her parted lips and
her eyes sparkled at the unexpected, unaccustomed pleasure. She felt so
grown up, so conscious of a new power as she sat enthroned on the little
wagon seat (Mark Wilson always liked his buggies "courtin' size" so the
neighbors said), that she was almost courageous enough to agree to make
a royal progress through the village; almost, but not quite.

"Come on, let's shake the old tabbies up and start 'em talking, shall
we?" Mark suggested. "I'll give you the reins and let Nero have a flick
of the whip."

"No, I'd rather not drive," she said. "I'd be afraid of this horse, and,
anyway, I must get out this very minute; yes, I really must. If you hold
Nero I can just slip down between the wheels; you needn't help me."

Mark alighted notwithstanding her objections, saying gallantly, "I don't
miss this pleasure, not by a jugful! Come along! Jump!"

Patty stretched out her hands to be helped, but Mark forestalled her by
putting his arms around her and lifting her down. A second of time only
was involved, but in that second he held; her close and kissed her warm
cheek, her cheek that had never felt the touch of any lips but those of
Waitstill. She pulled her sunbonnet over her flaming face, while Mark,
with a gay smile of farewell, sprang into the wagon and gave his horse a
free rein.

Patty never looked up from the road, but walked faster and faster, her
heart beating at b