starting hurriedly forward, "and will listen
to you when we get back to the house."

"And that is the very last thing I intend you shall do," he rejoined,
springing from the grass, where he had thrown himself, and coming close
to her, "I tell you, I want to talk to you."

"Well, if you have anything to say to me," she continued, hastening on,
"you can proceed as we go along, for I cannot linger. I was not aware of
its being so late, until you aroused me."

"There, I did not think of that," he added; "Susan will miss me, and,
beside, some one might have been watching me follow you."

"_Did_ you follow me?" questioned Clemence, thrown, for the moment,
completely off her guard.

"Of course," he replied, studying her face intently; "how else did you
suppose I could find you in that hiding-place?"

"I was not aware that a hard-working farmer was given to such school-boy
tricks," she said again, in tones of marked displeasure. "If you wished
to recall me, one of the children would have done the errand equally as
well."

He laughed sarcastically. "All very proper and correct, Miss Graystone.
Perhaps I did run the risk of discovery, in my anxiety to find you, but
one cannot be always upon their guard and remember everything. You are a
'cute one, now, with that artless face. I studied for weeks before I
really made up my mind whether it was real or only put on for the
occasion."

"Did you ever observe me before?" asked Clemence as cooly as possible,
resolved to cultivate obtuseness, and not apply his words personally, "I
suppose, now, in a quiet place like this, any stranger is subjected to
the comments and surmises of nearly all the inhabitants. By the way, how
many do you suppose the place numbers?"

"Really, I don't know," he answered dryly, "never having the curiosity
to inquire. Perhaps the Editor could tell you. Suppose you ask him, when
you meet again, as you seem to be tolerably well acquainted."

"Oh, I don't care so much as that about it," said Clemence,
indifferently, "and I am not sufficiently well acquainted with the
gentleman in question, to catechise him in any way."

"Then you were not writing those verses to him, that I saw you put away
when I spoke to you?"

The red blood flashed indignantly into Clemence's cheeks, at this
impertinence, but she had a motive in checking any manifestations of her
fear and anger, so she answered lightly:

"Of course not, it was merely for my own amusement."

"Ah,