n elder sister might chide a younger one, who
was incorrigibly perverse and wayward.

"It was about as silly a thing as you ever did in your life. He must have
thought you a perfect fool to have supposed he had come down to meet you,"
she was saying to herself at the very moment when the sound of Stephen's
footsteps first reached her ear, and caused her to look up. The sight of
his face at that particular moment was so startling and so unpleasant to
her that it deprived her of all self-possession. She gave a low cry, her
face was flooded with crimson, and she sprang from the wall so hastily
that her leaves and vines flew in every direction.

"I am very sorry I frightened you so, Mrs. Philbrick," said Stephen, quite
unconscious of the true source of her confusion. "I was just on the point
of speaking, when you heard me. I ought to have spoken before, but you
made so charming a picture sitting there among the leaves and vines that I
could not resist looking at you a little longer."

Mercy Philbrick hated a compliment. This was partly the result of the
secluded life she had led; partly an instinctive antagonism in her
straightforward nature to any thing which could be even suspected of not
being true. The few direct compliments she had received had been from men
whom she neither respected nor trusted. These words, coming from Stephen
White, just at this moment, were most offensive to her.

Her face flushed still deeper red, and saying curtly,--"You frightened me
very much, Mr. White; but it is not of the least consequence," she turned
to walk back to the village. Stephen unconsciously stretched out his hand
to detain her.

"But, Mrs. Philbrick," he said eagerly, "pray tell me what you think of
the house. Do you think you can be contented in it?"

"I have not seen it," replied Mercy, in the same curt tone, still moving
on.

"Not seen it!" exclaimed Stephen, in a tone which was of such intense
astonishment that it effectually roused Mercy's attention. "Not seen it!
Why, did you not know you were on your own stone wall? There is the
house;" and Mercy, following the gesture of his hand, saw, not more than
twenty rods beyond the spot where she had been sitting, a shabby, faded,
yellow wooden house, standing in a yard which looked almost as neglected
as the orchard, from which it was only in part separated by a tumbling
stone wall.

Mercy did not speak. Stephen watched her face in silence for a moment;
then he laughed c