bearing.

"Say, we didn't do a thing to that tree," said Bertram Chester, with
the air of one who deprecates himself that he may leave the road wide
open for praise.

"It doesn't matter. It--it was very brave of you. Thank you very
much--are you hurt?"

"Only mussed up a little." He blinked perceptibly at the coolness in
her tone. Then he leaned back against a fence-post with the settled
air of one who expects to continue the conversation. She swayed
slightly away from him.

"Kind of nice place," he said, sweeping his eye over the shingled
cottage whose rose-bushes were making a brave fight against the dry
summer dust, over the tiny lawn, over the Lombardy poplars.

"It's nice of you to say so."

Bertram turned his eye upon her again.

"Say," said he, "I don't believe the Judge expects me back right away!
Anything more I can do around the place?"

Eleanor smiled through her slight resentment.

"I don't think I care to take the responsibility." In that moment,
the butcher-wagon, making the rounds from farm-house to farm-house,
appeared quite suddenly at the bend of the road. Maria, wife of
Antonio and cook for Eleanor's haciendetta, ran out to meet it.

"Oh, Maria--tell Mr. Bowles I want to see him!" cried Eleanor, and
hurried toward the house. Bertram Chester stood deserted for a moment,
and then;

"Good bye!" he called after her.

"Good bye and thank you so much!" she answered over her shoulder.

* * * * *

Two minutes later, Mr. Bowles, driver of the meat wagon, was saying to
Eleanor:

"Which was it--rib or loin for Saturday, Miss Gray?"

"Was it?" said Eleanor, absently; and she fell to silence. Maria and
Mr. Bowles, waiting respectfully for her decision, followed her eyes.
She was looking at a dust cloud which trailed down the lane. When she
came out of her revery and beheld them both watching, silent and
open-mouthed, she flushed violently.

Bertram Chester, swinging between the green rows, was whistling
blithely:

"Say coons have you ebber ebber seen ma Angeline?
She am de swetes' swetes' coon you ebber seen."

CHAPTER II

Every Sunday afternoon during the picking season, Mrs. Tiffany served
tea on the lawn for the half-dozen familiar households on the Santa
Lucia tract. That was the busy time of all the year, affording no
leisure for those dinners and whist parties which came in the early
season, when the country fam