There was half a moment of silence. She ended it by saying:

"Ann and I are going to the spelling school to-night."

"Can I go with you?"

"Could you stand it to be talked to and scolded by a couple of girls till
you didn't care what happened to you?"

"Yes; I've got to be awful careless."

"We'll be all dressed up and ready at quarter of eight. Come to the
tavern. I'm going to have supper with Ann. She is just terribly happy.
John McNeil has told her that he loves her. It's a secret. Don't you
tell."

"I won't. Does she love him?"

"Devotedly; but she wouldn't let him know it--not yet."

"No?"

"Course not. She pretends she's in love with somebody else. It's the best
way. I reckon he'll be plum anxious before she owns up. But she truly
loves him. She'd die for him."

"Girls are awful curious--nobody can tell what they mean," said Harry.

"Sometimes they don't know what they mean themselves. Often I say
something or do something and wonder and wonder what it means."

She was looking off at the distant plain as she spoke.

"Sometimes I'm surprised to find out how much it means," she added. "I
reckon every girl is a kind of a puzzle and some are very easy and some
would give ye the headache."

"Or the heartache."

"Did you ever ride a horse sitting backwards--when
you're going one way and looking another and
you don't know what's coming?" she asked.

"What's behind you is before you and the faster you go the more danger
you're in?" Harry laughed.

"Isn't that the way we have to travel in this world whether we're going
to love or to mill?" the girl asked, with a sigh. "We can not tell what
is ahead. We see only what is behind us. It is very sad."

Barry looked at Bim. He saw the tragic truth of the words and suddenly
her face was like them. Unconsciously in the midst of her playful talk
this thing had fallen. He did not know quite what to make of it.

"I feel sad when I think of Abe," said Harry. "He don't know what is
ahead of him, I guess. I heard Mrs. Traylor say that he was in love with
Ann."

"I reckon he is, but he don't know how to show it. You might as well ask
me to play on a flute. He's never told her. He just walks beside her to a
party and talks about politics and poetry and tells funny stories. I
reckon he's mighty good, but he don't know how to love a girl. Ann is
afraid he'll step on her, he's so tall and awkward and wanderin'. Did you
ever see an elephant talking with a cricket?"