you will go with me after--"

"I would go with you after anything," he answered, but she thought he
spoke with a touch of anger.

Had Dic ever hoped to gain more than a warm friendship from the girl
that hope had been shattered for all time, and never, never, never would
he obtrude his love upon her again. As a matter of fact, he had not
obtruded it upon her even once, but he had thought of doing it so many
times that he felt as if he had long been an importunate suitor.

UNDER THE ELM CANOPY

CHAPTER V

UNDER THE ELM CANOPY

Dic and Rita rode home through the forest in silence. His anger soon
evaporated, and he was glad she had refused to pay the forfeit. He would
be content with the friendship that had been his since childhood, and
would never again risk losing it. What right had he, a great, uncouth
"clodhopper," to expect even friendship from so beautiful and perfect a
creature as the girl who rode beside him; and, taking it all in all, the
fault, thought he, lay entirely at his door. In this sombre mood he
resolved that he would remain unmarried all his life, and would be
content with the incompleted sweet of loving. He would put a guard upon
himself, his acts, his words, his passion. The latter was truly as noble
and pure as man ever felt for woman, but it should not be allowed to
estrange his friend. She should never know it; no, never, never, never.

Rita's cogitations were also along the wrong track. During her silent
ride homeward the girl was thinking with an earnestness and a rapidity
that had never before been developed in her brain. She was, at times,
almost unconscious that Dic was riding beside her, but she was vividly
conscious of the fact that she would soon be home and that he also would
be there. She determined to do something before parting from him to make
amends for her conduct at the social. But what should she do? Hence the
earnest and rapid intellection within the drooping head. She did not
regret having refused to kiss Dic. She would, under like circumstances,
again act in the same manner. She regretted the circumstances. To her, a
kiss should be a holy, sacred thing, and in her heart she longed for the
time when it would be her duty and her privilege to give her lips to the
one man. But kissing games seemed to her little less than open and
public shame.

She could not, for obvious reasons, tell Dic she was sorry she had
refused him, and she certainly would not mend matters by