ous
time.

In spite of her determination to get the disagreeable task behind her as
soon as possible, Elizabeth could find no chance at the breakfast table
the next morning to broach the subject, though she tried several times.
Mrs. Farnshaw gave her warning looks, but it was clearly not the time.
When at last the family was ready for divine services and Mr. Farnshaw
drove up in front of the house with the lumber wagon, the mother gave
Elizabeth a little push toward the door, admonishing her to "be quick
about it. Now's your time."

Elizabeth went slowly out. Mr. Farnshaw had just jumped out of the wagon
and when he saw his daughter coming stooped quickly to examine the leather
shoe sole which served to protect the brake. The elaborate attempt to
ignore her presence made the hard duty still harder. She waited for him to
take cognizance of her presence, and to cover her confusion adjusted and
readjusted a strap on Patsie's harness, thankful for the presence of her
favourite.

"Let that harness alone!" her father commanded when he was at last
embarrassed by his prolonged inspection of the wagon-brake.

"All right, pa," Elizabeth replied, glad to have the silence broken in any
manner. "I--I came out to talk to you. If I--if I've done anything to
annoy you, ever, I want to ask your pardon. I--ma--I want to tell you that
John Hunter and I are to be married this fall, and--and I'd like to be the
kind of friends we ought to be before I go away."

The last sounded rather good to the girl and she stopped, encouraged, also
feeling that it was best to let well enough alone; but when she looked up
at him and encountered his look she shrank as if to avoid something aimed
at her.

The tyrant detests anything which cringes before him, and Josiah Farnshaw
was as much fired to anger by what he saw in his daughter's face as he
could have been by her defiance.

"Oh, I know you'd like to be friends!" he sneered with the fierce hatred
of a man caught in an evil act. "Now that you're goin' away you'd like t'
be on good terms with me, would you? How many cows would you like for your
peaceable intentions? What's th' price of your friendship, anyhow? Of
course you don't owe me anything! You're a lady! Now that you're goin' t'
set up housekeepin' you'd like t' be good friends. You'll get nothin' from
me; I'll let you know that right here and now. Go along with you; I don't
want nothin' from you, an' I don't propose t' give nothin' to you