"I am
not accustomed to oversleep myself. I promise it will not occur
again."

My dignity was quite lost on Gussie. She peeled off her gloves
cheerfully and said, "I suppose you'd like some breakfast. Just wait
till I wash my hands and I'll get you some. Then if you're pining to
be useful you can help me take up these geraniums."

There was no help for it. After I had breakfasted I went, with many
misgivings. We got on fairly well, however. Gussie was particularly
lively and kept me too busy for argument. I quite enjoyed the time and
we did not quarrel until nearly the last, when we fell out bitterly
over some horticultural problem and went in to dinner in sulky
silence. Gussie disappeared after dinner and I saw no more of her. I
was glad of this, but after a time I began to find it a little dull.
Even a dispute would have been livelier. I visited the mills, looked
over the farm, and then carelessly asked Aunt Lucy where Miss Ashley
was. Aunt Lucy replied that she had gone to visit a friend and would
not be back till the next day.

This was satisfactory, of course, highly so. What a relief it was to
be rid of that girl with her self-assertiveness and independence. I
said to myself that I hoped her friend would keep her for a week. I
forgot to be disappointed that she had not when, next afternoon, I saw
Gussie coming in at the gate with a tolerably large satchel and an
armful of golden rod. I sauntered down to relieve her, and we had a
sharp argument under way before we were halfway up the lane. As usual
Gussie refused to give in that she was wrong.

Her walk had brought a faint, clear tint to her cheeks and her
rippling dusky hair had half slipped down on her neck. She said she
had to make some cookies for tea and if I had nothing better to do I
might go and talk to her while she mixed them. It was not a gracious
invitation but I went, rather than be left to my own company.

By the end of the week I was as much at home at Ashley Mills as if I
had lived there all my life. Gussie and I were thrown together a good
deal, for lack of other companions, and I saw no reason to change my
opinion of her. She could be lively and entertaining when she chose,
and at times she might be called beautiful. Still, I did not approve
of her--at least I thought so, most of the time. Once in a while came
a state of feeling which I did not quite understand.

One evening I went to prayer meeting with Aunt Lucy and Gussie. I had
not se