ary woman in
dis settlement. He's grieve' fer her a long time, but I reckon he's
gittin' over it, an' de nex' 'oman w'at marries him'll git a box er
pyo' gol', ef I does say it as is his own mammy."

Rena had thought Wain rather harsh with his household, except in her
immediate presence. His mother and sister seemed more or less afraid
of him, and the children often anxious to avoid him.

One day, he timed his visit to the schoolhouse so as to walk home with
Rena through the woods. When she became aware of his purpose, she
called to one of the children who was loitering behind the others,
"Wait a minute, Jenny. I'm going your way, and you can walk along with
me."

Wain with difficulty hid a scowl behind a smiling front. When they had
gone a little distance along the road through the woods, he clapped his
hand upon his pocket.

"I declare ter goodness," he exclaimed, "ef I ain't dropped my
pocket-knife! I thought I felt somethin' slip th'ough dat hole in my
pocket jes' by the big pine stump in the schoolhouse ya'd. Jinny,
chile, run back an' hunt fer my knife, an' I'll give yer five cents ef
yer find it. Me an' Miss Rena'll walk on slow 'tel you ketches us."

Rena did not dare to object, though she was afraid to be alone with
this man. If she could have had a moment to think, she would have
volunteered to go back with Jenny and look for the knife, which,
although a palpable subterfuge on her part, would have been one to
which Wain could not object; but the child, dazzled by the prospect of
reward, had darted back so quickly that this way of escape was cut off.
She was evidently in for a declaration of love, which she had taken
infinite pains to avoid. Just the form it would assume, she could not
foresee. She was not long left in suspense. No sooner was the child
well out of sight than Wain threw his arms suddenly about her waist and
smilingly attempted to kiss her.

Speechless with fear and indignation, she tore herself from his grasp
with totally unexpected force, and fled incontinently along the forest
path. Wain--who, to do him justice, had merely meant to declare his
passion in what he had hoped might prove a not unacceptable
fashion--followed in some alarm, expostulating and apologizing as he
went. But he was heavy and Rena was light, and fear lent wings to her
feet. He followed her until he saw her enter the house of Elder
Johnson, the father of several of her pupils, after which he sneaked
unea