the
note of exasperation in his voice.

She stretched her hand forward and very gently took the branch of roses
from him.

"Don't tell stories," she said in the cajoling voice used to children.
"This is Sunday."

"I never tell stories," he answered, goaded to open irritation, "on
Sunday or any other day. You know I would have liked to come with you
and Byron could have--have----"

"What?" the branch upright in her hand.

"Gone to the devil!"

"David!" in horror, "I never thought _you'd_ talk that way."

She gave the branch a shake and a shower of drops fell on him.

"There, that's to cool your anger. For I see you're angry though I
haven't got the least idea what it's about."

He made no answer, wounded by her lack of understanding. She moved the
rose spray against her face, inhaling its fragrance, and watching him
through the leaves. After a moment she said with a questioning
inflection:

"You were angry?"

He gave her a quick glance, met her eyes, shining between the duller
luster of the leaves, and suddenly dumb before their innocent
provocation, turned his head away. The sense of his disturbance
trembled on the air and Susan's smile died. She dropped the branch,
trailing it lightly across the water, and wondering at the confusion
that had so abruptly upset her self-confident gayety. Held in
inexplicable embarrassment she could think of nothing to say. It was
he who broke the silence with a change of subject:

"In a few days more we'll be at the Platte. When we started that
seemed as if it was half the journey, didn't it?"

"We'll get there just about a month from the time we left Independence.
Before we started I thought a month out of doors this way would be like
a year. But it really hasn't seemed long at all. I suppose it's
because I've enjoyed it so."

This again stirred him. Was there any hope that his presence might
have been the cause of some small fraction of that enjoyment? He put
out a timid feeler:

"I wonder why you enjoyed it. Perhaps Leff and I amused you a little."

It was certainly a humble enough remark, but it caused a slight
stiffening and withdrawal in the young girl. She instinctively felt
the pleading for commendation and resented it. It was as if a slave,
upon whose neck her foot rested, were to squirm round and recommend
himself to her tolerance. David, trying to extort from her flattering
admissions, roused a determination to keep the slave with his fac