body undulated as she walked,
but Rose moved only with forward flings of delicate limbs.

"I've got to carry these eggs down to the store and get some sugar,"
said Rebecca.

Rose assented, absently. She was full of the thought of her talk with
Barney.

"It's a pleasant day, ain't it?" said Rebecca.

"Yes, it's real pleasant. Say, Rebecca, I'm awful afraid I made
Barney mad just now."

"Why, what did you do?"

"I stopped in the field when I was going by. I'd been up to see
Charlotte, and I said something about it to him."

"How much do you know about it?" Rebecca asked, abruptly.

"Charlotte told me this mornin', and last night when I was going to
her house across lots I saw Barney going, and heard her calling him
back. I thought I'd see if I couldn't coax him to make up with her,
but I couldn't."

"Oh, he'll come round," said Rebecca.

"Then you think it'll be made up?" Rose asked, quickly.

"Of course it will. We're having a terrible time about poor Barney.
He didn't come home last night, and it's much as ever he's spoken
this morning. He wouldn't eat any breakfast. He just went into his
room, and put on his other clothes, and then went out in the field to
work. He wouldn't tell mother anything about it. I never saw her so
worked up. She's terribly afraid he's done something wrong."

"He hasn't done anything wrong," returned Rose. "I think your mother
is terrible hard on him. It's Uncle Cephas; he just picked the
quarrel. He hasn't never more'n half liked Barney. So you think
Barney will make up with Charlotte, and they'll get married, after
all?"

"Of course they will," Rebecca replied, promptly. "I guess they won't
be such fools as not to for such a silly reason as that, when
Barney's got his house 'most done, and Charlotte has got all her
wedding-clothes ready."

"Ain't Barney terrible set?"

"He's set enough, but I guess you'll find he won't be this time."

"Well, I'm sure I hope he won't be," Rose said, and she walked along
silently, her face sober in the depths of her bonnet.

They came to Richard Alger's house on the right-hand side of the
road, and Rebecca looked reflectively at the white cottage with its
steep peak of Gothic roof set upon a ploughed hill. "It's queer how
he's been going with your aunt Sylvy all these years," she said.

"Yes, 'tis," assented Rose, and she too glanced up at the house. As
they looked, a man came around the corner with a basket. He was about
to plant pota