are there." The
frank, boyish honesty of his tone seemed to disappoint the blue eyes.
Together in silence they set off down the lane.

"Well," she said, resuming their conversation, "I don't think I can go,
but I'll see. You'll be playing for the dancing, I suppose?"

"No. I won't play if Dan is around, and I guess he'll be there. I may
spell him a little perhaps."

"Then you'll be dancing yourself. You're great at that, I know."

"Me? Not much. It's Dick. Oh, he's a dandy! He's a bird! You ought to
see him! I'll make him do the Highland Fling."

"Oh, Dick, Dick!" she cried impatiently, "everything is Dick with you."

Barney glanced at her, and after a moment's pause said, "Yes. I guess
you're right. Everything is pretty much Dick with me. Next to my mother,
Dick is the finest in all the world."

At the crest of the hill they stood looking silently upon the scene
spread out before them.

"There," said Barney, "if I live to be a hundred years, I can't forget
that," and he waved his hand over the valley. Then he continued, "I tell
you what, with the moon just over the pond there making a track of
light across the pond--" She glanced shyly at him. The sombre eyes were
looking far away.

"I know," she said softly; "it must be lovely."

Through the silence that followed there rose and fell with musical
cadence a call long and clear, "Who-o-o-hoo."

"That's mother," said Barney, answering the call with a quick shout.
"You'll be in time for dinner."

"Dinner!" she cried with a gasp. "I'll have to get my buttermilk and
other things and hurry home." And she ran at full speed down the hill
and into the mill yard, followed by Barney protesting that it was too
hot to run.

"How are you, Mrs. Boyle?" she panted. "I'm in an awful hurry. I'm after
father's buttermilk and that recipe, you know."

Mrs. Boyle's eyes rested lovingly upon her flushed face.

"Indeed, there's no hurry, Margaret. Barney should not be letting you
run."

"Letting me!" she laughed defiantly. "Indeed, he had all he could do to
keep up."

"And that I had," said Barney, "and, mother, tell her she must come to
the raising."

"And are you not going?" said the older woman.

"I don't think so. You know father--well, he wouldn't care for me to be
at the dance."

"Yes, yes, I know," quickly replied Mrs. Boyle, "but you might just come
with me and look quietly on. And, indeed, the change will be doing
you good. I will just call for you, and spe