Lawton led the way to a little oat shed standing at some distance from the house.  Behind this he paused.  From beneath his coat he drew a round bottle and two glass tumblers.

“No joke skippin’ th’ ole lady,” he chuckled in an undertone.  He poured out a liberal portion for himself, and passed the bottle along.  Bennington was unwilling to hurt the old fellow’s feelings after he had taken so much trouble on his account, but he was equally unwilling to drink the whisky.  So he threw it away when Lawton was not looking.

They walked leisurely toward the house, Lawton explaining various improvements in a loud tone of voice, intended more to lull his wife’s suspicions than to edify the young man.  The lady looked on them sternly, and announced dinner.  At the table Bennington found Mary already seated.

The Easterner was placed next to Mrs. Lawton.  At his other hand was Maude Eliza.  Mary sat opposite.  Throughout the meal she said little, and only looked up from her plate when Bennington’s attention was called another way.

Her mere presence, however, seemed to open to the young man a different point of view.  He found Mrs. Lawton’s lengthy dissertations amusing; he considered Mr. Lawton in the light of a unique character, and Maude Eliza, while as disagreeable as ever, came in for various excuses and explanations on her own behalf in the young man’s mind.  He became more responsive.  He told a number of very good stories, at which the others laughed.  He detailed some experiences of his own at places in the world far remote, selected, it must be confessed, with some slight reference to their dazzling effect on the company.  Without actually “showing off,” he managed to get the effect of it.  The result of his efforts was to harmonize to some extent these diverse elements.  Mrs. Lawton became more coherent, Mr. Lawton more communicative; Maude Eliza stopped whining—­occasionally and temporarily.  Bennington had rarely been in such high spirits.  He was surprised himself, but then was not that day of moment to him, and would he not have been a strange sort of individual to have seen in the world aught but brightness?

But Mary responded not at all.  Rather, as Bennington arose, she fell, until at last she hardly even moved in her place.

“Chirk up, chirk up!” cried Mrs. Lawton gaily, for her.  “I know some one who ought to be happy, anyhow.”  She glanced meaningly from one to the other and laughed heartily.

Bennington felt a momentary disgust at her tactlessness, but covered it with some laughing sally of his own.  The meal broke up in great good humour.  Mrs. Lawton and Maude Eliza remained to clear away the dishes.  Mr. Lawton remarked that he must get back to work, and shook hands in farewell most elaborately.  Bennington laughingly promised them all that he would surely come again.  Then he escaped, and followed Mary up the hill, surmising truly enough that she had gone on toward the Rock.  He thought he caught a glimpse of her through the elders.  He hastened his footsteps.  At this he stumbled slightly.  From his pocket fell a letter he had received that morning.  He picked it up and looked at it idly.