'm a tanner, and a capital tanner I intend to be. By-the-by, I
wonder if Mrs. Tod, who talks so much about 'gentlefolk,' knows that
latter fact about you and me?"

"I think not; I hope not. Oh, David! this one month at least let us
get rid of the tan-yard."

For I hated it more than ever now, in our quiet, free, Arcadian life;
the very thought of it was insupportable, not only for myself, but for
John.

He gently blamed me, yet, I think, he involuntarily felt much as I did,
if he would have allowed himself so to feel.

"Who would guess now that I who stand here, delighting myself in this
fresh air and pleasant view, this dewy common, all thick with
flowers--what a pretty blue cluster that is at your foot, Phineas!--who
would guess that all yesterday I had been stirring up tan-pits,
handling raw hides? Faugh! I wonder the little harebells don't sicken
in these, my hands--such ugly hands, too!"

"Nonsense, John! they're not so bad, indeed; and if they were, what
does it matter?"

"You are right; lad; it does not matter. They have done me good
service, and will yet, though they were not made for carrying nosegays."

"There is somebody besides yourself plucking posies on the Flat. See,
how large the figure looks against the sky. It might be your Titaness,
John--

'Like Proserpina gathering flowers,
Herself the fairest--'

--no, not fairest; for I declare she looks very like your friend
Grey-gown--I beg her pardon--Miss March."

"It is she," said John, so indifferently that I suspect that fact had
presented itself to him for at least two minutes before I found it out.

"There's certainly a fatality about your meeting her."

"Not the least. She has this morning taken her walk in a different
direction, as I did; and we both chanced again to hit upon the same,"
answered John, gravely and explanatorily. "Come away down the slope.
We must not intrude upon a lady's enjoyments."

He carried me off, much against my will, for I had a great wish to see
again that fresh young face, so earnest, cheerful, and good. Also, as I
laboured in vain to convince my companion, the said face indicated an
independent dignity which would doubtless make its owner perfectly
indifferent whether her solitary walk were crossed by two gentlemen or
two hundred.

John agreed to this; nevertheless, he was inexorable. And, since he
was "a man of the world"--having, in his journeys up and down the
country for my father