What shall it be? Come--quick now."

"Oh, I--don't know. Yes, I wish to have Lucy at that terrible
boarding-school."

John laughed. "Oh, Leila, is that the best you can do?"

"Yes, wish a wish for me, if mine doesn't suit."

Then he said, "I wish the school had small-pox and you had to stay at
Grey Pine."

"I didn't think you'd care as much as that. Aren't these flowers
beautiful? Wish me a real wish."

"Then, I wish that when we grow up you would marry me."

"Well, John, you are a silly." She took on an air of authoritative
reprimand. "Why, John, you are only a boy, but you ought to know better
than to talk such nonsense."

"And you," he said, "are just a little girl."

"Oh, I'm not so very little," returned Miss Grey.

"When I'm older, I shall ask you again; and if you say no, I'll ask
again--and--until--"

"What nonsense, John. Let's go home."

He rose flushed and troubled, and said, "Are you vexed, Leila?"

"No, of course not; but it was foolish of you."

He made no reply, in fact hardly heard her. He was for the moment older
in some ways than his years. What had strangely moved him disturbed Leila
not at all. She talked on lightly, laughing at times, and was answered
briefly; for although he had no desire to speak, the unfailing courteous
ways of his foreign education forced him to disregard his desire to say.
"Oh, do let me alone; you don't understand." He hardly understood himself
or the impulsive stir of emotion--a signal of coming manhood. Annoyed by
his unwillingness to talk, she too fell to silence, and they walked
homeward.

During the time left to them there was much to do in the way of visits to
the older village people and some of the farmer families who had been
here on the soil nearly as long as the Penhallows. There were no other
neighbours near enough for country intercourse, and the life at Grey Pine
offered few attractions to friends or relatives from the cities unless
they liked to tramp with the Squire in search of game. The life was,
therefore, lonely and would for some women have been unendurable; but as
the Baptist preacher said to Rivers, "Duties are enough to satisfy Mrs.
Penhallow, and I do guess she enjoys her own goodness like the angels
must do."

Mark Rivers answered, "That is pretty nearly true, but I wish she would
not invent duties which don't belong to women."

"About the election, you mean?"

"Yes. It troubles me, and I am sure it troubles the Squire. What abo