I could make out of it."

"I was a leetle afeerd all along," admitted Mrs. Dawson. "I was
afeerd, though I couldn't let on at the time. Folks said he was
powerful changeable. You see, he has treated other gals the same way.
Sally, you must be brave, an' not let on. Why, thar was Mattie
Logan--jest look at her. Folks said she was a rantin' fool about 'im,
but when he quit goin' thar she tuck up with Clem Dill, an' now she's a
happy wife an' mother."

Sally turned towards the gate. "What's that to me?" she said,
fiercely. "I'm not her, and she's not me. Stay here, mother. I'll be
back soon."

"Well, I'm goin' to set right thar on that log outside the gate, an'
not budge one inch till you come back, Sally. If you wait too long,
though, I'll come after you. Oh, Sally, I'm awful afeerd--I don't know
what at, but I'm afeerd."

Together the two passed through the gate, and then, leaving her mother
at the log, Sally hastened through the darkness towards the main road,
several hundred yards away. Mrs. Dawson sat down and folded her hands
tightly in her lap and waited. After a few minutes she heard the heat
of a horse's hoofs on the clay road, and when it ceased she knew her
child was demanding and learning her fate. Fifteen minutes passed.
The beat of hoofs was resumed, and soon afterwards Sally Dawson came
slowly through the darkness, her dress dragging over the dewy grass.
She seemed to have forgotten that her mother was waiting for her, and
was about to pass on to the house, when Mrs. Dawson spoke up.

"Heer I am, Sally; what did he say?"

The girl sat down on the log beside her mother. There was a desperate
glare in her eyes that had never been in eyes more youthful. Her lips
were drawn tight, her small hands clinched.

"It's every bit true," she said, under her breath. "He's goin' with
Lizzie, regular. He admitted he had an engagement with her tonight.
Mother, it's all up with me. He's jest tired of me. I don't deserve
any pity for bein' such a fool, but it's awful--awful--awful!"

Mrs. Dawson caught her breath suddenly, so sharp was her own pain, but
she still strove to console her daughter.

"He's railly not wuth thinkin' about, darlin'; do--do try to forget
'im. It may look like a body never could git over a thing like that,
but I reckon a pusson kin manage to sort o' bear it better, after
awhile, than they kin right at the start. Sally, I'm goin' to tell you
a secret. I'd 'a' told you