"No," he retorted, impatiently, even angrily, for Eperson stood near by,
hat in hand, extending a handkerchief to Tilly.

"You dropped it on the grass," he said. "I found it just now."

"Thank you," Tilly said, taking it and smiling sweetly. "Good night.
Remember what I told you." Then she turned back to John. "You must say
good night to them. They are rather particular, and will think it
strange if you don't. There they are in the hall, all three of them."

He obeyed. How he got through it he never knew. He bore away with him a
blurred impression of the farmer's red face, too affectionate handclasp;
Mrs. Teasdale's fat and squatting movement as she silently and timidly
bowed; and Sally's gushing appreciation of his coming, and her regrets
at not having seen more of him through the evening.

Joel and Martha Jane were getting into the buggy. The latter leaned over
a wheel to kiss Tilly. Joel raised his hat, and John found himself
imitating the salutation, and despising it. He gave his arm to Tilly and
they started home. The road ahead of them was dusty, and Joel's horse
stirred the powdered clay into a cloud as he trotted ahead of them. This
fact in itself angered John. He coughed and sniffed, but said nothing.

"I hope you liked the party," Tilly began. Her hand rested on John's arm
in the same confiding way as formerly, but it stirred him no longer.

"I thought it was awful, silly, stupid!" he declared. "I never knew that
grown-up people could act that way."

"I'm sorry," Tilly sighed. "I was afraid you would not enjoy so many
strangers. It would not be natural for you to feel as much at home as
the rest. You see, they have been going together for years, and,
moreover, you said you had not been accustomed to such things."

"No, and I have not missed anything," he threw back.

She made no denial. Her hold on his arm had a caressing quality that
would be hard to define. She seemed to understand him better than he
understood himself. "Yes, I was afraid you wouldn't like it," she
rejoined, "for you are different from most persons. You are the
strangest man I ever knew--the very, very strangest. Your face is as
smooth as a boy's, and yet somehow you seem old in--in experience--sad
experience, too, I should think. You are rough on the outside, but I
know you are pure gold on the inside."

"Pure gold, rubbish!" he sneered, inwardly. Had he not just heard a girl
say that Joel Eperson was the best man alive? What did a