ield did not seem to notice it, but it jarred upon Ruth,
and she was relieved when he said he must go.

"You'll come again, won't you?" she asked.

"I will, indeed."

She stood at the window, unconsciously watching him as he went down
the hill with a long, free stride. She liked the strength in his broad
shoulders, his well modulated voice, and his clear, honest eyes; but
after all he was nothing but a boy.

"Miss Thorne," said Hepsey, at her elbow, "is that your beau?" It
was not impertinence, but sheer friendly interest which could not be
mistaken for anything else.

"No," she answered; "of course not."

"He's real nice-lookin', ain't he?

"Yes."

"Have you got your eye on anybody else?"

"No."

"Then, Miss Thorne, I don't know's you could do better."

"Perhaps not." She was thinking, and spoke mechanically. From where she
stood she could still see him walking rapidly down the hill.

"Ain't you never seen him before?"

Miss Thorne turned. "Hepsey," she said, coldly, "please go into the
kitchen and attend to your work. And the next time I have company,
please stay in the kitchen--not in the dining-room."

"Yes'm," replied Hepsey, meekly, hastening to obey.

She was not subtle, but she understood that in some way she had offended
Miss Thorne, and racked her brain vainly. She had said nothing that
she would not have said to Miss Hathaway, and had intended nothing but
friendliness. As for her being in the dining-room--why, very often, when
Miss Hathaway had company, she was called in to give her version of
some bit of village gossip. Miss Hathaway scolded her when she was
displeased, but never before had any one spoken to Hepsey in a measured,
icy tone that was at once lady-like and commanding. Tears came into her
eyes, for she was sensitive, after all.

A step sounded overhead, and Hepsey regained her self-possession. She
had heard nearly all of the conversation and could have told Miss Thorne
a great deal about the young man. For instance, he had not said that he
was boarding at Joe's, across the road from Miss Ainslie's, and that
he intended to stay all Summer. She could have told her of an uncertain
temper, peculiar tastes, and of a silver shaving-cup which Joe had
promised her a glimpse of before the visitor went back to the city; but
she decided to let Miss Thorne go on in her blind ignorance.

Ruth, meanwhile, was meditating, with an aggravated restlessness. The
momentary glimpse of the outer