ow it could, but it did. It even
got worse, for another letter came from Shelley that made matters
concerning her no brighter, and while none of us talked about Laddie,
all of us knew mighty well how we felt; and what was much worse, how he
felt. Father and mother had quit worrying about God; especially
father. He seemed to think that God and Laddie could be trusted to
take care of the Princess, and I don't know exactly what mother
thought. No doubt she saw she couldn't help herself, and so she
decided it was useless to struggle.

The plowing on the west side was almost finished, and some of the seed
was in. Laddie went straight ahead flower-trimmed and whistling until
his face must have ached as badly as his heart. In spite of how hard
he tried to laugh, and keep going, all of us could see that he fairly
had to stick up his head and stretch his neck like the blue goose, to
make the bites go down. And you couldn't help seeing the roundness and
the colour go from his face, a little more every day. My! but being in
love, when you couldn't have the one you loved, was the worst of all.
I wore myself almost as thin as Laddie, hunting a Fairy to ask if she'd
help me to make the Princess let Laddie go on and plow, when he was so
crazy about it. I prayed beside my bed every night, until the Lord
must have grown so tired He quit listening to me, for I talked right up
as impressively as I knew how, and it didn't do the least bit of good.
I hadn't tried the one big prayer toward the east yet; but I was just
about to the place where I intended to do it soon.

CHAPTER XV

Laddie, the Princess, and the Pie

"O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad."

Candace was baking the very first batch of rhubarb pies for the season
and the odour was so tempting I couldn't keep away from the kitchen
door. Now Candace was a splendid cook about chicken gizzards--the
liver was always mother's--doughnuts and tarts, but I never really did
believe she would cut into a fresh rhubarb pie, even for me. As I
reached for the generous big piece I thought of Laddie poor Laddie,
plowing away at his Crusader fight, and not a hint of victory. No one
in the family liked rhubarb pie better than he did. I knew there was
no use to ask for a plate.

"Wait--oh wait!" I cried.

I ran to the woodshed, pulled a shining new shingle from a bale stacked
there, and held it for Candace. Then I slipped around the house
softly. I didn't want to