e have our good times gone to?
I'm going to be married to the man I love--and I'm going to live right
near you--and--what is the matter with us, anyway?"

Susan Hornby clung to the girl and could not cease crying, till at last
Elizabeth lifted her chin on one finger and with a corner of Aunt Susan's
own apron, wiped the tears from the contorted face.

"Now then, don't cry," she said, kissing her again and again.

"Keep the folks in a good humour, dear. The Hunters 'll feel awful if
anything more happens," Susan Hornby faltered, and then, to keep the girl
from, replying, and to avoid the surprise and pain in the young face,
pushed her gently but firmly toward the door and John Hunter, who was
waiting impatiently.

CHAPTER X

PHILOSOPHY OF ELIZABETH'S LIFE VOICED

"To-morrow," Elizabeth said, significantly, as John turned back to get
into the wagon after they had deposited the trunk in the house.

"To-morrow," John smiled back at her. It was a reluctant smile he gave
her, but the bid for affection in her young eyes was irresistible.

"He had to be nice," she thought as she walked back to the house; "it was
a good way."

A sudden thought came to her.

"Did you ask Luther to the wedding?" she asked of her mother as she
entered.

"No, I didn't. What do you want of that Swede?" Mrs. Farnshaw asked
petulantly. "I should think----"

What she thought was never recorded in words, for Elizabeth was out of the
house like a flash, calling to John Hunter as she ran down the road after
him. It was a surprised John who took her message.

"Yes, I'll tell him, but I don't see what you want of that Swede--he
always seems to cut such a figure in everything you do," John said
discontentedly.

"Well, just tell him that ma sends the invitation, will you?" was all
Elizabeth could say.

It was John's first contemptuous remark about Luther, and it disturbed
her. They were to live closer to Luther Hansen than any other neighbour
and it was essential that they be on friendly terms. She had hoped it
might be that John would appreciate the good things in Luther which even
his nationality could not spoil. Dear old Luther! In spite of the
observation she had seemed to resent the night before, Elizabeth loved
him--loved him all the more because she had been obliged to hurt him. It
suddenly occurred to her that John might not deliver her message. She put
the thought away from her instantly, saying aloud:

"He'd do anything h