Pitt that he finally changed places with
her, explaining that he generally drove on the left side. He was more
tranquil then, for her left profile was more pleasing, though for the
life of him he could not help remembering Huldah's sweet outlines, the
dimple in her chin, her kissable mouth, her delicate ear. Why, oh,
why, had she inherited her father's temper and her mother's gift of
prophecy, to say nothing of her grandfather's obstinacy and her
grandmother's nimble tongue! All at once it dawned upon him that he
might have jilted Huldah without marrying Jennie. It would, it is
true, have been only a half revenge; but his appetite for revenge was
so dulled by satisfaction he thought he could have been perfectly
comfortable with half the quantity, even if Huldah were not quite so
uncomfortable as he wished her to be. He dismissed these base and
disloyal sentiments, however, as bravely as he could, and kissed
Jennie twice, in a little stretch of wood road that fell in
opportunely with his mood of silent penitence.

About two o'clock clouds began to gather in the sky, and there was a
muttering of thunder. Pitt endured all the signs of a shower with such
fortitude as he could command, and did not put up the buggy-top or
unstrap the boot until the rain came down in good earnest.

"Who'd have suspicioned this kind of weather?" he growled as he got
the last strap into place and shook the water from his new straw hat.

"I was afraid of it, but I didn't like to speak out," said Jennie
primly; "they say it gen'ally does rain Saturdays."

* * * * *

Meanwhile Huldah lay in the spare room at the back of the house and
sobbed quietly. Mrs. Rumford and the skeptical Jimmy had gone to Old
Orchard, and Huldah had slipped out of the front door, tacked the
obtrusive placard on the gate-post, and closed all the blinds in honor
of the buried hopes that lay like a dead weight at the bottom of her
heart.

She was a silly little thing, a vain little thing, and a spitfire to
boot, but that did not prevent her suffering an appreciable amount,
all that her nature would allow; and if it was not as much as a larger
nature would have suffered, neither had she much philosophy or
strength to bear it. The burden is fitted to the back as often as the
back to the burden.

She frequently declared to herself afterwards that she should have had
"a fit of sickness" if it had not been for the thunderstorm tha