thought of himself. He must
have appeared rather like an animated scarecrow with his straw-coloured
hair, his long arms flopping and his legs covering such stretches of
ground that his coat-tails stood out straight behind, for in deference
to a possible meeting with a young woman Ambrose was wearing the swallow
tail and carrying the stove-pipe hat of his wedding journey.

He stopped, however, when the mouth of an old war pistol was suddenly
placed in front of his left shoulder.

"Please don't move," its owner said tremulously.

[Illustration: "He stopped when the mouth of an old war pistol was
suddenly placed in front of his shoulder"]

And Ambrose's lips twitched as he answered politely, "I ain't a-goin'
to," and then he kept absolutely still, noticing that the arm that held
the pistol was trembling nervously and that the girl at the end of the
arm wore a yellow sunbonnet and a primrose covered dress, and that the
face within the sunbonnet was possibly a shade paler and more startled
than his own.

"I am sorry if I frightened you," she apologized after a little further
study of her companion, "but I am so often alone in these woods and now
that the war is just over and things so unsettled I thought it best to
carry my father's pistol, and you startled me so running toward me."

Ambrose inclined his head, not daring to make any further move, for the
girl still held her pistol so confidingly near the neighbourhood of his
heart; nevertheless, he was able to see that Miss Dunham had changed
since the day of her visit to their shop. Her eyes were bright, but the
laughter lines had disappeared from her mouth and chin, and while she
still meant to be firm, the man could see that the firmness cost.

Her pistol drooped listlessly downward. "You must not mind; it isn't
loaded," she explained, "and even if it were, I couldn't shoot."

But still she handled the weapon in so ingenuous and distinctly feminine
a manner that Ambrose reached out. "You wouldn't mind my having a look,
Miss Dunham?" Emptying the barrels, a single shot slid into his hand.

"Oh, oh," cried the girl helplessly, "I am so sorry; I might have killed
you." Then she wavered for a moment and except for Ambrose's arm might
have fallen. The yellow sunlight bathed her and her dress in a golden
light. It was a curious thing for the tall man to have a woman's eyes so
nearly on a level with his own, though she righted herself almost
instantly and taking off he