"Yes, I seen you both, down in the medders."

"We had one grand time, brother. Look here." He opened the lid of his
basket.

"All right," said Sim. "We'll cook 'em for supper. Some folks like
'em. There's need for about everything we can get. I reckon God's
forgot us all right."

"Cheer up!" rejoined his guest. "I was just thinking God was in His
heaven to-day. Well, thank you, old man, for that fishing. That's the
finest grayling water in the whole world. I've lost my bet with you.
May I come up again some time?"

"Yes," said Sim Sage, "sometimes,--when you know I'm around. Come
again," he added, somewhat formally, as they shook hands. "I'll be
around."

He turned toward his house as soon as he saw the car well off in the
lane. He found his wife sitting with her face turned toward the window.

"He's just about going around the corner now," said she, following the
sound of the car. And then, presently, "And how are you, sir? You've
been gone a long while."

Sim had seated himself awkwardly on a chair, his hat on his knee.
"Have a good time down in the medder?" he asked presently. "He told me
you was fishing."

"Oh, yes, and we caught some whoppers too. They'll be good to eat, I'm
sure."

"Yes, I expect you'll like them." He seemed for some reason less than
ordinarily loquacious, and suddenly she felt it.

"Tell me," said she, turning squarely towards him with a summoning of
her own courage. "Why are you away all the time? It's been more than
a week, and I've hardly seen you. You're away all the time. Am I
doing wrong in any way?"

"Why, no."

"I don't mean to cry--it's just because I'm not used to things yet.
It's hard to be blind. But--I meant all I said--then. Don't you
believe me?"

"I know you did," said he, simply. But still the awkward silence, and
still her attempt to set things more at ease.

"Why don't you come over here close to me?" said she, with an attempt
dutiful at least. "How can I tell anything about you? You've never
even touched me yet, nor I you. You've never even--I've never had any
real notion of how you look, what you are like. I never saw your
picture. It was an awful thing of me to do."

"Are you sorry?"

"But any woman wants to see her husband, to know what he is, what he
looks like. I can't tell you how I wonder. And I don't seem to
know--and can't learn. Tell me _about_ yourself, won't you? What sort
of looking man are you? What are yo