ime, because she loved me, or thought she did; but
little by little her old gladsome way along with me wilted and I found her
wits wandering. She'd be dreaming instead of listening to my discourse,
and then she'd come back to herself and squeeze hold of my hand, or kiss
me, and ask me to say what I'd just said over again. I passed it off a lot
of times, and then on the quiet had a tell with her father, thinking,
maybe, if there was anything biting her, he might know it.

But he said little. He only scowled and glowered and wriggled his eyebrows
like a monkey--a nasty trick he had.

"If there's trouble on her mind," said Joshua, "you may lay your life it's
the thought of deserting a lonely father. And if conscience works in her,
as I hope to God it will, then you'll find yourself down and out yet,
William Morris."

That's how he talked to me; but my great gift of patience never deserted
me with Owlet, and seeing he knew nothing about any real disquiet in his
daughter's head, I left it at that and hoped I was mistook.

Mighty soon I found that I was not, however, and then, in the hour for my
daily constitutional, which I never missed, rain or shine, I turned over
the situation and resolved to approach Jenny on the subject and invite a
clean breast of it.

There was a woodman's path ran on the high ground behind Oakshotts, and
here I seldom failed to take an hour's walk daily for the sake of health.
Up and down I'd go under the trees in the lonely woods, and mark the signs
of nature and rest my mind from the business of the house. And sometimes
Jenny would come along with me, but oftener I went alone, because our
regular afternoon out gave me the opportunity for her company and she
couldn't often break loose other times.

There was an ancient woodstack on the path hid deep in undergrowth of
laurels and spruce fir, and not seldom in summer I'd smoke a pipe with my
back against it; but oftener I'd tramp up and down past it, where it
heaved up beside the narrow way. They was always going to pull it down,
but there never rose no call for wood and it was let bide year after
year--a very picturesque and ancient object.

During an autumn day it was that I went there, with the larches turned to
gold and the leaf flying from the oaks and shining copper-red on the beech
trees. And I resolved once for all to challenge Jenny upon her troubles,
because if her future husband couldn't throw no light on 'em and scour 'em
away, he m