rike him," he said, "for he is a drowning sentimentalist, catching
at a fantastic straw." He paused in his walk to look at his wife as if
he expected to find on her face a commendation of this simile. She
nodded, knowing what to do, and the Major continued, resuming his walk:
"I say that I can't blame him so much, but Louise ought to have better
sense. I'll swear I don't know where she gets her stubbornness. Oh, but
there is no use worrying ourselves with a discussion of it. You may talk
to her, but I have had my say."

Louise, meanwhile, was strolling along a shaded lane that led from the
ferry. Iron weeds grew in the corners of the fence, and in one hand she
carried a bunch of purple blooms; with the other hand she slowly swung
her hat, holding the strings. A flock of sheep came pattering down the
road. With her hat she struck at the leader, a stubborn dictator
demanding the whole of the highway. His flock scampered off in a fright,
leaving him doggedly eyeing the disputer of his progress. But now she
was frightened, with such fierceness did the old ram lower his head and
gaze at her, and she cried out, "Go on back, you good-for-nothing
thing."

"He won't hurt you," a voice cried in the woods, just beyond the fence.
"Walk right up to him."

An enormous young fellow came up to the fence and with climbing over
broke the top rail. "Don't you see he's scared?"

"But he would have knocked me over if you hadn't come."

"No, he wouldn't; he was just trying to make friends with you."

"But I don't want such a friend."

Together they slowly walked along. With tenderness in his eyes he looked
down upon her, and when he spoke, which he did from time to time, his
voice was deep and heavy but with a mellowness in it. She addressed him
as Mr. Taylor and asked him if he had been away. And he said that he
had, but that was not a sufficient reason for the formality of
Mister--his name was Jim. She looked up at him--and her eyes were so
blue that they looked black--and admitted that his name had been Jim but
that now it must be Mr. Taylor. She laughed at this but his face was
serious.

"Why, I haven't called you Jim since----"

"Since I asked you to marry me."

"No, not since then. And now you know it wouldn't be right to call you
Jim."

In his slowness of speech he floundered about, treading down the briars
that grew along the edge of the road, walking with heavy tread but
tenderly looking down upon her. "That ought not