e," he said, wincing ever so slightly.

"They was all sot on your being her sweetheart, except me and her--and
Joe."

"Why not you, Miss Rhody?"

"You ain't never been in love with Janey--not the way you'll love some
day. When I was sick last fall Almiry Green come over to read to me
and she brung a book of poems. I never keered much for po'try, and
Almiry, she didn't nuther, but she hed jest ketched Widower Pankey,
and so she thought it was proper to be readin' po'try. She read
somethin' about fust love bein' a primrose, and a-fallin' to make way
fer the real rose, and I thought to myself: 'That's David. His feelin'
fer Janey is jest a primrose.'"

David's eyes were inscrutable, but she continued:

"I knowed she hed allers fancied Joe sence she was a little tot and he
give her them beads. When Joe's name was spoke she was allers
shy-like. She wuz never shy-like with you."

"No," admitted David wearily, "but I must go on to the farm now, Miss
Rhody. I will come in again soon."

When he came into the sitting room of the farmhouse, where he found
Joe and Janey, the rare smile that comes with the sweetness of
renunciation was on his lips. After he had congratulated them, he
asked for Barnabas.

"He just started for the woods," said Joe. "I think he is on his way
to Uncle Larimy's."

David hastened to overtake him, and soon caught sight of the bent
figure walking slowly over the stubbled field.

"Uncle Barnabas!" he called.

Barnabas turned and waited.

"Did you see Janey and Joe?" he asked, looking keenly into the
shadowed eyes.

"Yes; Aunt M'ri had told me."

"When?"

"This morning. Joe's a man after your own heart, Uncle Barnabas."

"It's you I wanted fer her," said the old man bluntly. "I never dreamt
of its bein' enybody else. It's an orful disapp'intment to me, Dave.
I'd ruther see you her man than to see you what I told you long ago I
meant fer you to be."

"And I, too, Uncle Barnabas," said David, with slow earnestness,
"would rather be your son than to be governor of this state!"

"You did care, then, David," said the old man sadly. "It don't seem to
be much of a surprise to you."

"Uncle Barnabas, I will tell you something which I want no one else to
know. I came back last evening and drove out here. I looked in the
window, and saw her as she sat at work. It came into my heart to go in
then and ask her to marry me, instead of waiting until after election
as I had planned. Then Joe came i