many nice things about her and I was
not disappointed. I intended to make only a short call and I stayed and
stayed. I hope I did not tire her."

"Not at all. Mother enjoyed your call exceedingly."

"Did she? I am so glad. I really am. I went to your house with a
good deal of misgiving, Mr. Paine. I feared that my coming might be
considered an intrusion."

"I told you that it would not."

"I know. But, under the circumstances--Father's disagreement
with--considering all the--the--Oh, what shall I call it?"

"The late unpleasantness," I suggested.

Again came the twinkle in her eye. She nodded.

"Thank you," she said. "That is a quotation, but it was clever of you to
think of it. Yes, considering the late unpleasantness, I was afraid
my visit might be misunderstood. I was fearful that your mother
or--someone--might think I came there with an ulterior motive, something
connected with that troublesome Lane dispute. Of course no one did think
such a thing?"

She asked the question quickly and with intense seriousness. I
remembered Lute's hint and my own secret suspicions, but I answered
promptly.

"Of course not," I said.

"You did not think that, did you?"

"No," unblushingly.

"I came because from what I had heard of your mother I was sure she must
be a wonderful woman. I wanted to meet her. And she IS wonderful; and so
patient and sweet and good. I fell in love with her. Everyone must love
her. You should be proud of your mother, Mr. Paine."

"I am," I answered, simply.

"You have reason. And she is very proud of you."

"Without the reason, I'm afraid."

She did not speak. Her silence hurt. I felt that I knew what she was
thinking and I determined to make her say it.

"Without the reason," I repeated.

"I did not say that."

"But you thought it."

My stubborn persistence was a mistake. Again, as at our meeting in the
grove, I had gone too far. Her answer was as completely indifferent as
speech and tone could be.

"Indeed?" she said, coldly. "It is barely possible that I did not think
about it at all. . . . Now, Mr. Paine, if you are ready shall we clear
away?"

The clearing, most of it, was done silently. I washed the plates, the
coffee pot and other things, in the pond and she packed them in the
basket. As I returned with the knife and forks I found her looking at
the coffee pot and smiling.

"What is the matter?" I asked, sulkily. I was provoked with myself for
forgetting who and what