ealized that here was a specimen of the virile male with which she
could not trifle. She glanced up at him now, smiling faintly. "My, I
was scared!" She stepped away from him a little--very little.

"Aw, he wouldn't hurt a flea."

But Bella looked over her shoulder fearfully to where Dunder stood by
the roadside, regarding Ben with a look of uncertainty. He still
thought that perhaps this was a new game. Not a game that he cared
for, but still one to be played if his master fancied it. Ben stooped,
picked up a stone, and threw it at Dunder, striking him in the flank.

"Go on home!" he commanded sternly. "Go home!" He started toward the
dog with a well-feigned gesture of menace. Dunder, with a low howl,
put his tail between his legs and loped off home, a disillusioned dog.

Bella stood looking up at Ben. Ben looked down at her. "You're the
new teacher, ain't you?"

"Yes. I guess you must think I'm a fool, going on like a baby about
that dog."

"Most girls would be scared of him if they didn't know he wouldn't hurt
nobody. He's pretty big."

He paused a moment, awkwardly. "My name's Ben Westerveld."

"Pleased to meet you," said Bella. "Which way was you going? There's a
dog down at Tietjens' that's enough to scare anybody. He looks like a
pony, he's so big."

"I forgot something at the school this afternoon, and I was walking
over to get it." Which was a lie. "I hope it won't get dark before I
get there. You were going the other way, weren't you?"

"Oh, I wasn't going no place in particular. I'll be pleased to keep
you company down to the school and back." He was surprised at his own
sudden masterfulness.

They set off together, chatting as freely as if they had known one
another for years. Ben had been on his way to the Byers farm, as
usual. The Byers farm and Emma Byers passed out of his mind as
completely as if they had been whisked away on a magic rug.

Bella Huckins had never meant to marry him. She hated farm life.

She was contemptuous of farmer folk. She loathed cooking and drudgery.
The Huckinses lived above the saloon in Commercial and Mrs. Huckins was
always boiling ham and tongue and cooking pigs' feet and shredding
cabbage for slaw, all these edibles being destined for the free-lunch
counter downstairs. Bella had early made up her mind that there should
be no boiling and stewing and frying in her life. Whenever she could
find an excuse she loitered about the saloon.