“I’m glad I can do some fine thing.”

Dorian had been standing.  He now seated himself on the bank beside her.  The world about them was very still as they sat for a few moments without speaking.

“Listen,” said he, “I believe Uncle Zed is preaching.  The meeting house windows are wide open, for a wonder.

“He can preach,” she remarked.

“He told me you visit him frequently.”

“I do.  He’s the grandest man, and I like to talk to him.”

“So do I. I had quite a visit with him this afternoon.  I rather fooled him, I guess.”

“How?”

“He told me to go home and change my clothes, and then go to meeting; but I came here instead.”

“Why did you do that?”

“To see you, of course.”

“Pooh, as if I was anything to look at.”

“Well, you are, Carlia,” and his eyes rested steadily on her to prove his contention.  “Why didn’t you want to go to meeting this evening?”

“You heard me tell father.”

“That wasn’t the whole truth.  I was not the reason because you had decided not to go before I came.”

“Well—­how do you know that? but, anyway, it’s none of your business, where I go, is it?” She made an effort to stare him out of countenance, but it ended in lowered head and eyes.

“Carlia!  No, of course, it isn’t.  Excuse me for asking.”

There was another period of silence wherein Dorian again wondered at the girl’s strange behavior.  Was he annoying her?  Perhaps she did not care to have him paying his crude attentions to her; and yet—­

“Tell me about your dry farm,” she said.

“I’ve already plowed eighty acres,” he informed her.  “The land is rich, and I expect to raise a big crop next year.  I’ve quite a cosy house, up there, not far from the creek.  The summer evenings are lovely and cool.  I can’t get mother to stay over night.  I wish you would come and go with her, and stay a few days.”

“How could I stay away from home that long?  The heavens would fall.”

“Well, that might help some.  But, honestly, Carlia, you ought to get away from this grind a little.  It’s telling on you.  Don’t you ever get into the city?”

“Sometimes Saturday afternoons to deliver butter and eggs.”

“Well, some Saturday we’ll go to see that moving picture show that’s recently started in town.  They say it’s wonderful.  I’ve never been.  We’ll go together.  What do you say?”

“I would like to.”

“Let’s move on.  Meeting is out, and the folks are coming home.”

They walked slowly back to the house.  Mr. and Mrs. Duke soon arrived and told of the splendid meeting they had had.

“Uncle Zed spoke,” said Mr. Duke, “and he did well, as usual.  He’s a regular Orson Pratt.”

“The people do not know it,” added Dorian; “perhaps their children or their children’s children will.”

“Well, what have you two been doing?” enquired the father of Carlia.