h a start at the sound of his mother's voice
calling to him from the open kitchen window.

"Bestir yourself, Hervey, boy. There's work to be done down in the
fields, which is your share in the day's doings."

And the man, removing the pipe from his mouth, forgot to grumble back
a rough retort, and answered quite cheerfully--

"All right, mother. Is Prudence there?"

"Where should she be, if not?" replied his mother, turning back from
the window to tell his sister that she was wanted.

Prudence came out. Hervey watched her as she approached. He could not
but admit to himself the prettiness of her trim figure, the quiet
sedateness of her beautiful, gentle face. Gazing intently, he failed
to observe the faint shadow in the expression of her soft brown eyes.
There was no sympathy in his nature, and without sympathy it would
have been impossible to read the expression. But Prudence was feeling
a little sad and a little hurt. Iredale had not fulfilled his promise.
Two days had passed since he had told her that he loved her and had
asked her to be his wife; nor, since then, had he been over to the
farm, nor had she heard a word from him. Fortunately, she told
herself, she had said nothing of what had passed between them, not
even to her friend Alice; thus she was spared the sympathy of her
friends. She had waited for his coming with a world of eager delight
in her heart, and each moment of the day on which he was to have come
to see her mother had been one of unalloyed happiness to her. Then as
the evening drew on she became anxious. And again as night came, and
still no sign from him, her anxiety had given place to alarm. That
night she slept little, but she kept her trouble to herself. Alice was
all eagerness to ask questions of her friend, but Prudence gave her no
opportunity. The next morning a note had arrived. Business detained
him, but he would be over at the earliest possible moment. And now the
third day was well advanced and he still remained away. She did not
doubt him, but she felt hurt and a little rebellious at the thought of
his allowing himself to be detained by business. Surely his first duty
was to her. It was not like him, she told herself; and she felt very
unhappy.

Hervey greeted her with an assumption of kindness, almost of
affection.

"Are you busy, Prue? I mean, I want to have a little talk with you.
I've been working in your interests lately. You may guess in what
direction. And I have made a