a flash and was
gone, for something else than extra years was counting, which had never
counted before. He had turned over a new leaf, as he said. On it he had
subscribed with docile alacrity to every ancient grotesqueness in Parson
Tombs's science of God, sin, and pardon; and then had stamped Fannie's
picture there, fondly expecting to retain it by the very simple trick of
garlanding it round with the irrefragable proposition that love is the
fulfilling of the law! But not many days had the leaf been turned when a
new and better conscience awoke to find shining there, still wet from
God's own pen, the corollary that only a whole sphere of love can fulfil
the law's broad circumference.

As Fannie and Barbara made their bow and moved to pass on he hurriedly
raised his hat and his good horse dropped into a swift, supple walk. The
bridle hand started as if to draw in, but almost at the same instant the
animal sprang again into a gait which showed the spur had touched her,
and was quickly out of hearing.

"Barb," murmured Fannie, "you're thinking he's improved."

"Yes, only---"

"Only you think he'd have stopped if he'd seen us sooner. Why can't you
think maybe he wouldn't? But you're not to blame; you simply have a
girl's natural contempt for a boy's love. Well, a boy's love _is_ silly;
but when you see the constant kind, like John's, as sure as you live
there are not many things entitled to higher respect. O Barb! I've never
felt so honored by any other love that man ever offered me. He'll get
over it; completely. I believe it's dying now, though it's dying hard.
But the next time he loves, the girl who treats his love lightly--Let's
go down in these woods and look for hepaticas. John can't bring them to
me any more and Jeff-Jack never did. He sends candy. There's homage in a
wild flower, Barb; but candy, oh--I don't know--it makes me ashamed."

"Why don't you tell him so?"

Fannie leaned close and whispered, "I'm afraid."

"Why, he gave me wild flowers, once."

"When? Who?" The black eyes flashed. "When did he ever give you
flowers?"

"When I was five years old." They turned down a short descent into the
woods.

Fannie smiled pensively. "Barb, did you notice that John----"

"Has been trading again! His love's not very constant as to horses."

"But what a pretty mare he's got! Barb, 'pon my word, when John March is
well mounted, I do think, physically, he's--" The speaker hearkened.
From the low place where