“There, sir!” she cried, “there is your coat!  How very gallant in you!  I shall never—­no, sir, never forget your devotedness!”

And the young girl wrung the water from her curls, and laughed.

“Nothing more natural, my dear,” said Ralph.

“Than what?”

“My devotedness.”

“How?”

“Can you ask?”

“Yes, sir, I can.”

“Would you have me a heathen?”

“A heathen!”

“Yes, Miss Fanny; the least which would be expected of a gentleman would be more than I have done, under the circumstances, and with the peculiar relationship between us.

“Oh, yes, cousinship!”

“No, madam, intended wedlock.”

“Sir!”

“Come, don’t blush so, my heart’s delight,” said Ralph, “and if the subject is disagreeable, that is, a reference to it in this public manner, I will say no more.”

“Hum!”—­

“There, now—­”

“I think that your impudence—­”

“Is very reasonable,” said Ralph, filling up the sentence; “but suppose you dry your feet, and yourself generally, as Miss Redbud is doing.  That is more profitable than a discussion with me.”

This advice seemed excellent, and Fanny determined to follow it, though she did not yield in the tongue contest without a number of “hums!” which finally, however, died away like the mutterings of the storm without.

The good-humored old woman to whom the humble mansion belonged, had kindled a bundle of twigs in the large fire-place; and before the cheerful blaze the young girls and their cavaliers were soon seated, their wet garments smoking, and the owners of the garments laughing.

The good-humored old dame would have furnished them with a change, but this was declared unnecessary, as the storm seemed already exhausted, and they would, ere long, be able to continue their way.

Indeed, the storm had been one of those quick and violent outbursts of the sky, which seem to empty the clouds instantly almost, as though the pent up waters were shut in by a floodgate, shattered by the thunder and the lightning.  Soon, only a few heavy drops continued to fall, and the setting sun, bursting in splendor from the western clouds, poised its red ball of fire upon the horizon, and poured a flood of crimson on the dancing streamlets, the glittering grass, and drenched foliage of the hill-side.

Redbud rose, smiling.

“I think we can go now,” she said, “I am afraid to stay any longer—­my clothes are very wet, and I have not health enough to risk losing any.”

With which the girl, with another smile, tied the ribbon of her chip hat under her chin, and looked at Verty.

That gentleman rose.

“I wish my coat had been thicker,” he said, “but I can’t help it.  Yes, yes, Redbud, indeed we must get back.  It would’nt do for you to get sick.”

“And me, sir!” said Fanny.