e studied
her with narrowing eyes and through a puzzled frown--"but I reckon hit's
all right, if you air goin' to git married some time."

"What's all right, Dad?" The old man checked himself:

"Ever' thing," he said shortly, "but don't you make a fool of yo'self
with a good man like Jack Hale." And, wondering, June was silent. The
truth was that the old man had wormed out of Hale an admission of the
kindly duplicity the latter had practised on him and on June, and he
had given his word to Hale that he would not tell June. He did not
understand why Hale should have so insisted on that promise, for it was
all right that Hale should openly do what he pleased for the girl he was
going to marry--but he had given his word: so he turned away, but his
frown stayed where it was.

June went on, puzzled, for she knew that her father was withholding
something, and she knew, too, that he would tell her only in his
own good time. But she could go away when she pleased--that was the
comfort--and with the thought she stopped suddenly at the corner of the
garden. She could see Hale on his big black horse climbing the spur.
Once it had always been his custom to stop on top of it to rest his
horse and turn to look back at her, and she always waited to wave him
good-by. She wondered if he would do it now, and while she looked
and waited, the beating of her heart quickened nervously; but he
rode straight on, without stopping or turning his head, and June felt
strangely bereft and resentful, and the comfort of the moment before
was suddenly gone. She could hear the voices of the guests in the porch
around the corner of the house--there was an ordeal for her around
there, and she went on. Loretta and Loretta's mother were there, and
old Hon and several wives and daughters of Tolliver adherents from
up Deadwood Creek and below Uncle Billy's mill. June knew that the
"bean-stringing" was simply an excuse for them to be there, for she
could not remember that so many had ever gathered there before--at that
function in the spring, at corn-cutting in the autumn, or sorghum-making
time or at log-raisings or quilting parties, and she well knew the
motive of these many and the curiosity of all save, perhaps, Loretta and
the old miller's wife: and June was prepared for them. She had borrowed
a gown from her step-mother--a purple creation of home-spun--she had
shaken down her beautiful hair and drawn it low over her brows, and
arranged it behind afte