coming to a swampy spot that stretched all the way across the road, the
youth seated himself sidewise on the narrow tongue connecting the fore
and hind axles, and drove his team dry-shod.

It was a slow and creaking progress; but there seemed to be no hurry,
and the youth dreamed gloomily on his jolting perch. His eyes took no
note of the dark-mossed, scrubby hillocks, the rough clearings blackened
with fire, the confused and ragged woods, as they crept past in sombre
procession. But suddenly, as the cart rounded a turn in the road, there
came into view the figure of a girl travelling in the same direction.
The young man slipped from his perch and prodded up the oxen to a brisk
walk.

As the noise of the team approached her, the girl looked around. She was
good to see, with her straight, vigorous young figure in its blue-gray
homespun gown. Her hair, in color not far from that of the red ox, was
rich and abundant, and lay in a coil so gracious that not even the
tawdry millinery of her cheap "store" hat could make her head look quite
commonplace. Her face was freckled, but wholesome and comely. A shade of
displeasure passed over it as she saw who was behind her, and she
hastened her steps perceptibly. But presently she remembered that she
had a good five miles to go ere she would reach her destination; and she
realized that she could not hope to escape by flight. With a pout of
vexation she resigned herself to the inevitable, and dropped back into
her former pace. Immediately the ox-team overtook her.

As the oxen slowed up she stepped to the right to let them pass, and
then walked on, thus placing the cart between herself and her undesired
companion. The youth looked disconcerted by these tactics, and for a few
moments could find nothing to say. Then, dropping his long white lashes
sheepishly, he murmured, "Good-day, Liz."

"Well, Jim-Ed!" replied the girl, coolly.

"Won't ye set on an' let me give ye a lift home?" he asked, with
entreaty in his voice.

"No," she said, with finality: "I'd ruther walk."

Not knowing how to answer this rebuff, he tried to cover his
embarrassment by exclaiming authoritatively, "Haw, Bright!" whereupon
the team slewed to the left and crowded him into the ditch.

Soon he began again.

"Ye _might_ set on, Liz," he pleaded.

"Yes, I _might_," said she, with what she considered rather withering
smartness; "but I ain't a-goin' to."

"Ye'll be tired afore ye git home," he persisted,