an apple tree.

"But villainy holds a virtue when it tells the truth," Mrs. Goodwin
replied.

"Holds fiddlesticks," said Mrs. Stuvic, with a sniff. "Why can't you
folks talk sense? Just as soon as a woman reads a book, she's got to
talk highfurlutin' blabber. Now, what does that man out there want?"

"He wants beer," said Blakemore.

"Well, he can't get it. He looks like the man that had me fined last
summer. I hate a detective on the face of the earth. One went down in
my cellar and drank beer, and then had me up. Go on away from here," she
shouted. "There's not a drop of beer on this place. Move on off with
you. I'll let you know that I don't keep beer."

The man went away, grumbling. Blakemore turned to Milford and said:
"Come join me in a bottle."

"Now, you keep still," Mrs. Stuvic snapped. "Bill don't drink. And the
first thing I know you'll have me up."

Milford asked Mrs. Goodwin when she expected to go home. She answered
that she would leave on the following Tuesday. He remarked that he would
come over to go to the station with her, and then, waving a farewell to
the company, he strode off toward home. In his heart there flamed the
exultation of a great conquest after a fierce battle.

CHAPTER XVII.

AN AMBITION.

In the evening the hired man returned with his trousers drawing shorter
every moment. He swore that he was going to kill the peddler, which of
course meant that he would buy another pair from him. He would take off
the wretched leg-wear and hang weights to the legs, he said. No peddler
could get ahead of him. He called himself an inventive "cuss." He said
that his grandfather had sat upon a granite hillside and with a
jackknife whittled out a churn-dasher that revolutionized the art of
butter-making in that community. He smacked his mouth as he spoke of the
delights of the day just ended. It had been like sitting under a
rose-bush, with sweetened dew dripping upon him. He had seen his girl
trip from one rapture to another, mirroring a smile from the sun and
throwing it at him. Her face was joy's looking-glass. And aside from all
that, she had sense. She was an uncommon woman. He was not afraid to
tell her everything. It was certain to go no further. He could read a
woman the moment he set eyes upon her. They all invited confidence, but
few of them were worthy of it. Milford did not have it in his heart to
smash the fellow's idol. He said that he was pleased to know that so
true a