re was
as yet no cause for anxiety.

"We are very proud of our roads about here," said Miss Pierce. "When we
first bought they were very bad, but papa took the matter in hand and
got them to build with a rock foundation, as they do in Europe."

Three subjects had been touched upon, and no answer or remark yet forced
upon him. Peter thought of _rouge et noir_, and wondered what the odds
were that he would be forced to say something by Miss Pierce's next
speech.

"I like the New England roadside," continued Miss Pierce, with an
apparent relativeness to the last subject that delighted Peter, who was
used by this time to much disconnection of conversation, and found not a
little difficulty in shifting quickly from one topic to another. "There
is a tangled finish about it that is very pleasant. And in August, when
the golden-rod comes, I think it is glorious. It seems to me as if all
the hot sunbeams of the summer had been gathered up in--excuse the
expression--it's a word of Watts's--into 'gobs' of sunshine, and
scattered along the roads and fields."

Peter wondered if the request to be excused called for a response, but
concluded that it didn't.

"Papa told me the other day," continued Miss Pierce, "that there were
nineteen distinct varieties of golden-rod. I had never noticed that
there were any differences."

Peter began to feel easy and comfortable. He made a mental note that
Miss Pierce had a very sweet voice. It had never occurred to Peter
before to notice if a girl had a pleasant voice. Now he distinctly
remembered that several to whom he had talked--or rather who had talked
to him--had not possessed that attraction.

"Last year," said Miss Pierce, "when Watts was here, we had a golden-rod
party. We had the whole house decked with it, and yellow lamps on the
lawn."

"He told me about it," said Peter.

"He really was the soul of it," said Miss Pierce, "He wove himself a
belt and chaplet of it and wore it all through the evening. He was so
good-looking!"

Peter, quite unconscious that he had said anything, actually continued:
"He was voted the handsomest man of the class."

"Was he really? How nice!" said Miss Pierce.

"Yes," said Peter. "And it was true." Peter failed to notice that a
question had been asked, or that he had answered it. He began to think
that he would like to look at Miss Pierce for a moment. Miss Pierce,
during this interval, remarked to herself: "Yes. That was the right way,
Helen,