en out into bloom and color like a flower. The pupils of her blue
eyes dilated until they looked black; her thin lips looked full and
red; her cheeks were flaming; her slender chest heaved. "I would,"
said she; "I don't care, I would."

Charlotte looked at her, and a quivering flush like a reflection was
left on her fair, steady face.

"I would," said Rose again.

"It wouldn't do any good."

"It would if he cared anything about you."

"It would if he could give up to the care. Barney Thayer has got a
terrible will that won't always let him do what he wants to himself."

"I don't believe he's enough of a fool to put his own eyes out."

"You don't know him."

"I'd try, anyway."

"It wouldn't do any good."

"I don't believe you care anything about him, Charlotte Barnard!"
Rose cried out. "If you did, you couldn't give him up so easy for
such a silly thing. You sit there just as calm. I don't believe but
what you'll have another fellow on the string in a month. I know one
that's dying to get you."

"Maybe I shall," replied Charlotte.

"Won't you, now?" Rose tried to speak archly, but her eyes were
fiercely eager.

"I can't tell till I get home from the grave," said Charlotte. "You
might wait till I did, Rose." She got up and went to dusting her
bureau and the little gilt-framed mirror behind it. Her lips were
shut tightly, and she never looked at her cousin.

"Now don't get mad, Charlotte," Rose said. "Maybe I ought not to have
spoken so, but it did seem to me you couldn't care as _much_-- It
does seem to me I couldn't settle down and be so calm if I was in
your place, and all ready to be married to anybody. I should want to
do something."

"I should, if there was anything to do," said Charlotte. She stopped
dusting and leaned against the wall, reflecting. "I wish it was a
real mountain to move," said she; "I'd do it."

"I'd go right down in the field where he is ploughing, and I'd make
him say he'd come to see me to-night."

"I called him back last night--you heard me," said Charlotte, with
slow bitterness. Her square delicate chin dipped into the muslin
folds of her neckerchief; she looked steadily at the floor and bent
her brow.

"I'd call him again."

"You would, would you?" cried Charlotte, straightening herself. "You
would stand out in the road and keep on calling a man who wouldn't
even turn his head? You'd keep on calling, and let all the town
hear?"

"Yes, I would. I would! I wouldn't b