id not
bother him in the least,--as his thoughts were not on kindly receptions
in this God-forsaken community. Apparently there was no friendly feeling
between any two persons in the valley, therefore he did not look for a
kindly reception, nor did he desire one. He wanted to know the people,
that was all.

He passed the little bush which had so kindly sheltered him when Tom
Judson came rushing by, and reached the spot where he had bid the little
wild flower, the valley girl, good-by. It all looked the same yet. There
was the planter's cabin, just as he had seen it on the other occasion;
there was the old rickety wire gate through which the girl drove the cow
and through which her brother had led his horse soon afterward, and
through which he himself now strolled. He felt a peculiar shyness, this
man of the world, when he went into the little farmyard. The dog bayed,
the chickens cackled loudly, and the ducks quacked, raising their heads
loftily and scampering off toward the horse-lot. One old turkey gobbler
proudly strutted dangerously near him, signifying that he must be very
careful while treading on the soil of their domain. Through the window
the girl was watching him, her lustrous eyes all aglow at his approach,
her big heart beating a pit-a-pat against her shapely bosom, so fast
that she greatly feared lest he must hear it from his waiting place
outside.

It was really the newcomer, the one person of all persons whom she most
desired to see. She remembered his last conversation, his kind words,
his attentive attitude. She had enjoyed him hugely, and wished for the
time when she should hear his sweet voice again. By the time he was
ready to knock she stood at the door, slightly blushing, not in the
least backward. Their eyes met, but that bespoke nothing. Her eyes had
met the gaze of others; so had his.

"I've brought a book for you to read," he said, not knowing that she
could read at all.

"You needn't," she replied, reddening. But she took the book, as he gave
it to her. Turning her face back toward the house she cried with a loud
voice, "Mam! here's John, ther newcomer."

Jack looked up startled, greatly confused. She laughed at his confusion.

"That's the name I give everybody who I don't know," she said, smiling.

Wade felt quite relieved, his confusion at once disappearing. The
simplicity of this pure valley girl wrought within his soul a feeling
almost sympathetic. The simple means she had employed