o her. I've a great mind to leap
the fence and cross the fields to the mill."

Liza did not carry into effect the scarcely feminine athletic exercise
she had proposed to herself; and this change of intention on her part
opens up a more curious problem in psychology than the little creature
herself had any notion of. The fact is that just as Liza had resolved
that she would let nothing in the world interfere with her fixed
determination not to let the young blacksmith speak to her, she
observed, to her amazement, that the gentleman in question had clearly
no desire to do so, but was walking past her hurriedly, and with so
preoccupied an air as actually seemed to suggest that he was not so
much as conscious of her presence.

It was true that Liza did not want to speak to Mr. Joseph. It was also
true that she had intended to ignore him. But that _he_ should not
want to speak to _her_, and that _he_ should seem to ignore _her_, was
much more than could be borne by her stubborn little bit of coquettish
pride, distended at that moment, too, by the splendors of her best
attire. In short, Liza was piqued into a desire to investigate the
portentous business which had obviously shut her out of the
consciousness of the blacksmith.

"Mr. Garth," she said, stopping as he drew up to her.

"Liza, is that you?" he replied; "I'm in a hurry, lass--good morning."

"Mr. Garth," repeated Liza, "and maybe you'll tell me what's all your
hurry about. Has some one's horse dropped a shoe, or is this your
hooping day, or what, that you don't know a body now when you meet one
in the road?"

"No, no, my lass--good morning, Liza, I must be off."

"Very well, Mr. Garth, and if you must, you must. _I'm_ not the one to
keep any one 'at doesn't want to stop; not I, indeed," said Liza,
tossing up her head with an air as of supreme indifference, and
turning half on her heel. "Next time you speak to me, you--you--you
_will_ speak to me--mind that." And with an expression denoting the
triumph of arms achieved by that little outburst of irony and sarcasm
combined, Liza tossed the ribbons aside that were pattering her face
in the wind, and seemed about to continue her journey.

Her parting shot had proved too much for Mr. Garth. That young man had
stopped a few paces down the road, and between two purposes seemed for
a moment uncertain which to adopt; but the impulse of what he thought
his love triumphed over the impulse of what proved to be his hate