If she could only have an errand somewhere and make an excuse to get out!
But the Captain's next words relieved her perplexity; "I can't take you
all the way, Sis, I have to branch off another road to see a man about
helping me with the hay. I would have let Hollis go to mill, but I
couldn't trust him with these horses."

Hollis fidgeted on his seat; he had asked his father when they set out to
let him take the lines, but he had replied ungraciously that as long as
he had hands he preferred to hold the reins.

Hollis had laughed and retorted: "I believe that, father."

"Shall I get out now?" asked Marjorie, eagerly. "I like to walk. I
expected to walk home."

"No; wait till we come to the turn."

The horses were walking slowly up the hill; Marjorie made dents in the
bag of flour, in the bag of indian meal, and in the bag of wheat bran,
and studied Hollis' back. The new navy-blue suit was handsome and
stylish, and the back of his brown head with its thick waves of brownish
hair was handsome also--handsome and familiar; but the navy-blue suit was
not familiar, and the eyes that just then turned and looked at her were
not familiar either. Marjorie could get on delightfully with _souls_, but
bodies were something that came between her soul and their soul; the
flesh, like a veil, hid herself and hid the other soul that she wanted to
be at home with. She could have written to the Hollis she remembered many
things that she could not utter to the Hollis that she saw today.
Marjorie could not define this shrinking, of course.

"Hollis has to go back in a day or two," Captain Rheid announced; "he
spent part of his vacation in the country with Uncle Jack before he came
home. Boys nowadays don't think of their fathers and mothers."

Hollis wondered if _he_ thought of his mother and father when he ran away
from them those fourteen years: he wished that his father had never
revealed that episode in his early life. He did not miss it that he did
not love his father, but he would have given more than a little if he
might respect him. He knew Marjorie would not believe that he did not
think about his mother.

"I wonder if your father will work at his trade next winter," continued
Captain Rheid.

"I don't know," said Marjorie, hoping the "turn" was not far off.

"I'd advise him to--summers, too, for that matter. These little places
don't pay. Wants to sell, he tells me."

"Yes, sir."

"Real estate's too low; 'tisn't a good