u had better go straight home at once," he said.

"I can't do that," she answered. She did not explain that she did not
want to, the pain in her shoulder not being bad enough to make her
want to give up this first hour of freedom. "My shoulder does not hurt
if I do not move it," she said; "I can carry the basket with the other
hand."

"Perhaps you will allow me to carry it for you?" he suggested; "I am
going the same way."

"No, thank you," she returned. "Thanks very much for the offer, but
there isn't any need; I can manage quite well. I expect you will want
to go faster than I do." She spoke decidedly, and turned about
quickly; as she did so, she caught sight of the bottle of
peach-brandy in the grass.

"Oh, there's the brandy," she exclaimed; "I mustn't go without that."

He fetched the fortunately unbroken bottle and put it in the basket,
but he did not give it to her.

"I will carry this," he said; "if our pace does not agree, if you
would prefer to walk more slowly, I will wait for you at the beginning
of the village."

Julia rose to her feet, there was no choice left to her but to
acquiesce; from her heart she wished he would leave the basket and go
alone; she wished even that he would be rude to her, she felt that
then he would have been nearer her level and her father's. She
resented alike his presence and his courtesy, and she could not show
either feeling, only accept what he offered and walk by his side, just
as if no money was owed, and no letter, condescendingly cancelling the
debt, had been written. She grew hot as she thought of that carefully
worded letter, and hot when she thought of her father's relief
thereat. And here, here was the man who must have dictated the letter,
and probably paid the debt, behaving just as if such things never
existed. He was walking with her--she could not give him ten yards
start and follow him into the village--and making polite conversations
about the weather, and the road, and the quantity of soup that had
been spilled.

She pulled herself together, and, feeling the situation to be beyond
remedy, determined to bear herself bravely, and carry it off with what
credit she could. She glanced at the more than half-empty soup can. "I
am afraid you are right," she said; "there is a great deal of it gone;
still, that is not without advantage--I shall be sent to take some
more in a day or two."

"You wish that?" he inquired.

"Yes," she answered, "I find the exerci