'll teach you to be'ave. Go on! Out
with you! I don't care where you go; but you just go!' 'Tis as if girls
were all pats o' butter--same square, same pattern on it, same weight,
an' all."

Derek had come closer; he put his hand down and gripped her arm. Her
eloquence dried up before the intentness of his face, and she just stared
up at him.

"Now, look here, Wilmet; you promise me not to scoot without letting us
know. We'll get you a place to go to. Promise."

A little sheepishly the rogue-girl answered:

"I promise; only, I'm goin'."

Suddenly she dimpled and broke into her broad smile.

"Mr. Derek, d'you know what they say--they say you're in love. You was
seen in th' orchard. Ah! 'tis all right for you and her! But if any one
kiss and hug ME, I got to go!"

Derek drew back among the graves, as if he had been struck with a whip.

She looked up at him with coaxing sweetness.

"Don't you mind me, Mr. Derek, and don't you stay here neither. If they
saw you here with me, they'd say: 'Aw--look! Endangerin' another young
man--poor young man!' Good mornin', Mr. Derek!"

The rogue eyes followed him gravely, then once more began examining the
grass, and the toe of her boot again began kicking a little hole. But
Derek did not look back.

CHAPTER XI

It is in the nature of men and angels to pursue with death such birds as
are uncommon, such animals as are rare; and Society had no use for one
like Tod, so uncut to its pattern as to be practically unconscious of its
existence. Not that he had deliberately turned his back on anything; he
had merely begun as a very young man to keep bees. The better to do that
he had gone on to the cultivation of flowers and fruit, together with
just enough farming as kept his household in vegetables, milk, butter,
and eggs. Living thus amongst insects, birds, cows, and the peace of
trees, he had become queer. His was not a very reflective mind, it
distilled but slowly certain large conclusions, and followed intently the
minute happenings of his little world. To him a bee, a bird, a flower, a
tree was well-nigh as interesting as a man; yet men, women, and
especially children took to him, as one takes to a Newfoundland dog,
because, though capable of anger, he seemed incapable of contempt, and to
be endowed with a sort of permanent wonder at things. Then, too, he was
good to look at, which counts for more than a little in the scales of our
affections; indeed,