something which is supposed to be in
accordance with a standard of truth. Now no one in all the world knows
what truth is, no one. There is no way of telling. You can only act
wisely or unwisely as regards your personal welfare. If that's what
you're worrying about, and it is, I can tell you that you're no worse
off. There's nothing the matter with your welfare. I think you're better
off, for I like you better."

Angela wondered at the subtlety of his brain. She was not sure but that
what he said might be true. Could her fears be baseless? She felt sure
she had lost some of the bloom of her youth anyhow.

"How can you?" she asked, referring to his saying that he liked her
better.

"Easily enough," he replied. "I know more about you. I admire your
frankness. You're lovely--altogether so. You are sweet beyond compare."
He started to particularize.

"Don't, Eugene," she pleaded, putting her finger over her lips. The
color was leaving her cheeks. "Please don't, I can't stand it."

"All right," he said, "I won't. But you're altogether lovely. Let's go
and sit in the hammock."

"No. I'm going to get you your breakfast. It's time you had something."

He took comfort in his privileges, for the others had all gone. Jotham,
Samuel, Benjamin and David were in the fields. Mrs. Blue was sewing and
Marietta had gone to see a girl friend up the road. Angela, as Ruby
before her, bestirred herself about the youth's meal, mixing biscuit,
broiling him some bacon, cleaning a basket of fresh dewberries for him.

"I like your man," said her mother, coming out where she was working.
"He looks to be good-natured. But don't spoil him. If you begin wrong
you'll be sorry."

"You spoiled papa, didn't you?" asked Angela sagely, recalling all the
little humorings her father had received.

"Your father has a keen sense of duty," retorted her mother. "It didn't
hurt him to be spoiled a little."

"Maybe Eugene has," replied her daughter, turning her slices of bacon.

Her mother smiled. All her daughters had married well. Perhaps Angela
was doing the best of all. Certainly her lover was the most
distinguished. Yet, "well to be careful," she suggested.

Angela thought. If her mother only knew, or her father. Dear Heaven! And
yet Eugene was altogether lovely. She wanted to wait on him, to spoil
him. She wished she could be with him every day from now on--that they
need not part any more.

"Oh, if he would only marry me," she sighed. It w