he hummed audaciously, ready to catch her smile when it came.

It did not come. He thought he had never seen her carry her dusky good
looks more scornfully. With a movement of impatience she brushed back a
rebellious lock of blue-black hair from her temple.

"Somebody's acting right foolish," he continued jauntily. "It was all in
fun, and in a game at that."

"I wasn't playing," he heard, though the profile did not turn in the
least toward him.

"Well, I hated to let you stay a wall-flower."

"I don't play kissing games any more," she informed him with dignity.

"Sho, Phyl! I told you 'twas only in fun," he justified himself. "A kiss
ain't anything to make so much fuss over. You ain't the first girl that
ever was kissed."

She glanced quickly at him, recalling stories she had heard of his
boldness with girls. He had taken off his hat and the golden locks of
the boy gleamed in the sunlight. Handsome he surely was, though a critic
might have found weakness in the lower part of the face. Chin and mouth
lacked firmness.

"So I've been told," she answered tartly.

"Jealous?"

"No," she exploded.

Slipping to the ground, he trailed his rein.

"You don't need to depend on hearing," he said, moving toward her.

"What do you mean?" she flared.

"You remember well enough--at the social down to Peterson's."

"We were children then--or I was."

"And you're not a kid now?"

"No, I'm not."

"Here's congratulations, Miss Sanderson. You've put away childish things
and now you have become a woman."

Angrily the girl struck down his outstretched hand.

"After this, if a fellow should kiss you, it would be a crime, wouldn't
it?" he bantered.

"Don't you dare try it, Tom Dixon," she flashed fiercely.

Hitherto he had usually thought of her as a school girl, even though she
was teaching in the Willow's district. Now it came to him with what
dignity and unconscious pride her head was poised, how little the
home-made print could conceal the long, free lines of her figure, still
slender with the immaturity of youth. Soon now the woman in her would
awaken and would blossom abundantly as the spring poppies were doing on
the mountain side. Her sullen sweetness was very close to him. The rapid
rise and fall of her bosom, the underlying flush in her dusky cheeks,
the childish pout of the full lips, all joined in the challenge of her
words. Mostly it was pure boyishness, the impish desire to tease, that
struck the audaci