licks of love. With her scampering son, she crossed the
field, going toward the lake, the morning after the expected visit from
Lewson. She was determined to speak to Milford. Mrs. Stuvic had just
said, "That man is killin' himself for a woman." On she came, her feet
faring ill among the clods. She stumbled and laughed, and the boy, in
budding derision of woman's weakness, shouted contemptuously.

"Why did you come across this rough place?" Milford asked, planting his
hoe in front of him. To her he was a man behind the flag-staff of his
honor.

"Because it's so much nearer to the lake," she answered. The boy cried
out that he had found a rattlesnake, and proceeded to attack with clods
a rusty toad.

"Come away, Bobbie. He'll bite you." She saw that it was a toad, and she
knew that it would not bite him; but motherly instinct demanded that
she must warn him. "Oh, it's such a jaunt, coming across here. Really, I
don't see how you can stand it to work so long in the hot sun. Let me
bring you some cool water."

She felt that she ought to do something for him. He smiled, and glanced
down at her thin-shod feet. He felt that there was genuineness in this
slim creature, and he was moved to reply: "No, I thank you. Your
sympathy ought to relieve a man of thirst."

"Really, that is so nice of you. No wonder all the women like you when
you say such kind things. But there is one thing I wish, Mr. Milford--I
wish you'd taken more to my husband. He's awfully low-spirited, and I'm
so distressed about him. He's worried nearly to death in town, and he
comes out here and mopes about. I didn't know but you might say
something to interest him. He'll be out again this evening. Will you
please come over to the house to see him?"

He thought of his weariness after his day of strain, of his own
melancholy that came with the shades of night. He thought that, in
comparison with himself, the man ought to be boyishly happy; but he told
her that to come would give him great pleasure.

"Oh, I'm so glad to hear you say so. Tell him of fights, of men that
wouldn't give up, but fought their way out of hard luck. Tell him what
you are doing. I know it's preposterous to ask you, but will you do it?"

Her eyes were as bright as the dew caught by the cobweb, shaded by the
clod, he thought--as he stood there leaning on the handle of his hoe,
looking at her; and he read woman's great chapter of anxious affection.
"I will tell him of a man who faile