that's a pretty trick to play on us
fellows, you rascal! you'd better let up on that, now!"

Lovell grasped at the idea as a drowning man might grasp at a good
substantial raft that should come floating down his way.

"T-that's so," he stammered. "It is too bad, Harvey. It-t-t is,
certainly, but anything for a j-joke, you know. Here, take it yourself,
Harvey, t-take it; take it, quick!"

And Lovell got down on his knees as though he would have rendered dumb
thanks to Heaven for his unexpected deliverance, and proceeded to gather
up the corn with glad alacrity.

After this, the water was passed, and, at such times, it was always
comforting to consider how bountiful nature had been in this respect to
Wallencamp, and that the demand could never be quite equal to the supply.

Then the company began to disperse with many hand-shakings and "Why don't
ye all drop into my house?" etc., etc.

Lovell Barlow came back twice to shake hands with me; and returning the
third time, got lost, somehow, in the general confusion, and shook hands
very fervently with his mother, who was standing in the door.

I heard one of the departing visitors exclaim: "Why, where's Lute? I
should a thought he'd a dropped in, sure!"

And another answered: "Oh, he's got some new notion into his head, I
reckon! goin' on a cruise, may be!"

Rebecca was going out with a girl companion, talking rather loudly. I was
moved to take her hand a moment, gently detaining her. She looked
exceedingly bright and pretty. Her physical beauty was perfect, yet I
believed that the soul was only half awakened in the girl.

So as I held her hand a moment, with the others taking noisy leave about
us, I looked into her face with what she might have read as: "Weren't you
laughing rather loudly, my dear? I can see now that you are not so happy
as you would have people believe. Why not confide in me, and let me
straighten your difficulty out for you?"

But Rebecca's eyes were downcast, and her cheeks crimson. She let her
hand slip passively out of mine, and passed on, without a word.

CHAPTER IX.

LOVELL "POPS THE QUESTION."

One morning, ere we had breakfasted at the Ark, Lovell Barlow, like some
new-fangled orb of day, was seen to surmount the ruddy verge of the
horizon. He bore a gun upon his shoulders, and advanced with a singularly
martial and self-confident tread. As he entered the Ark, he placed the
gun against the wall, and sat down and folded his ar