fixed upon her during the whole of this scene. She
coloured again, abruptly handed the baby back to his mother, and rose.

"I'm neglecting all these people," she said, "but do sit there and rest
yourself and--have some more lemonade."

She bowed to Austen, and smiled a little as she filled the glasses, but
she did not beckon him. She gave no further sign of her knowledge of his
presence until he stood beside her--and then she looked up at him.

"I have been looking for you, Miss Flint," he said.

"I suppose a man would never think of trying the obvious places first,"
she replied. "Hastings, don't you see that poor old woman over there?
She looks so thirsty--give her this."

The boy addressed, with a glance at Austen, did as he was bid, and she
sent off a second on another errand.

"Let me help," said Austen, seizing the cake; and being seized at the
same time, by an unusual and inexplicable tremor of shyness, thrust it
at the baby.

"Oh, he can't have anymore; do you want to kill him?" cried Victoria,
seizing the plate, and adding mischievously, "I don't believe you're of
very much use--after all!"

"Then it's time I learned," said Austen. "Here's Mr. Jenney. I'm sure
he'll have a piece."

"Well," said Mr. Jenney, the same Mr. Jenney of the apple orchard, but
holding out a horny hand with unmistakable warmth, "how be you, Austen?"
Looking about him, Mr. Jenney put his hand to his mouth, and added,
"Didn't expect to see you trailin' on to this here kite." He took a
piece of cake between his thumb and forefinger and glanced bashfully at
Victoria.

"Have some lemonade, Mr. Jenney? Do," she urged.

"Well, I don't care if I do," he said, "just a little mite." He did not
attempt to stop her as she filled the glass to the brim, but continued
to regard her with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. "Seen you
nursin' the baby and makin' folks at home. Guess you have the knack of
it better'n some I could mention."

This was such a palpable stroke at their host that Victoria laughed, and
made haste to turn the subject from herself.

"Mr. Vane seems to be an old friend of yours," she said.

"Why," said Mr. Jenney, laying his hand on Austen's shoulder, "I callate
he is. Austen's broke in more'n one of my colts afore he went West and
shot that feller. He's as good a judge of horse-flesh as any man in this
part of the State. Hear Tom Gaylord and the boys wanted him to be State
senator."

"Why didn't you accept, Mr.