you so. What more can I do?"

"Did you ever do anything to prove it?"

"Set me something and see if I don't do it."

"Then you haven't done anything yet?"

"I don't know. I've done what I could."

"How about this?" She pulled a little crumpled sprig of dog-rose, such
as grows wild in the wayside hedges, out of her bosom. "Do you know
anything of that?"

He smiled, and was about to answer, when his brows suddenly contracted,
his mouth set, and his eyes flashed angrily as they focussed some
distant object. Following his gaze, she saw a slim, dark figure, some
three fields off, walking swiftly in their direction. "It's my friend,
Mr. Elias Mason," said she.

"Your friend!" He had lost his diffidence in his anger. "I know all
about that. What does he want here every second evening?"

"Perhaps he wonders what you want."

"Does he? I wish he'd come and ask me. I'd let him see what I wanted.
Quick too."

"He can see it now. He has taken off his hat to me," Dolly said,
laughing.

Her laughter was the finishing touch. He had meant to be impressive,
and it seemed that he had only been ridiculous. He swung round upon his
heel.

"Very well, Miss Foster," said he, in a choking voice, "that's all
right. We know where we are now. I didn't come here to be made a fool
of, so good day to you." He plucked at his hat, and walked furiously off
in the direction from which they had come. She looked after him, half
frightened, in the hope of seeing some sign that he had relented, but he
strode onwards with a rigid neck, and vanished at a turn of the lane.

When she turned again her other visitor was close upon her--a thin,
wiry, sharp-featured man with a sallow face, and a quick, nervous
manner.

"Good evening, Miss Foster. I thought that I would walk over as the
weather was so beautiful, but I did not expect to have the good fortune
to meet you in the fields."

"I am sure that father will be very glad to see you, Mr. Mason. You must
come in and have a glass of milk."

"No, thank you, Miss Foster, I should very much prefer to stay out here
with you. But I am afraid that I have interrupted you in a chat. Was not
that Mr. Adam Wilson who left you this moment?" His manner was subdued,
but his questioning eyes and compressed lips told of a deeper and more
furious jealousy than that of his rival.

"Yes. It was Mr. Adam Wilson." There was something about Mason, a
certain concentration of manner, which made it impossible for th