the mere pleasure of the day.  She had not given a name or a form to the hopes and fancies that were fluttering at her heart.  And now to have this sweet and secret pleasure handled and mauled by such a one as Sam Sleeny filled her with a speechless shame.  Even yet she hardly comprehended the full extent of his insinuation.  He did not leave her long in doubt.  Taking her silence and her confusion as an acknowledgment, he went on, in the same low, savage tone: 

“I had my hammer in my hand.  I looked through the pear trees to see if he kissed you.  If he had ‘a’ done it, I would have killed him as sure as death.”

At this brutal speech she turned pale a moment, as if suddenly struck a stunning blow.  Then she cried out: 

“Hold your vile tongue, you——­”

But she felt her voice faltering and the tears of rage gushing from her eyes.  She buried her face in her hands and sat a little while in silence, while Sam was dumb beside her, feeling like an awkward murderer.  She was not so overcome that she did not think very rapidly during this moment’s pause.  If she could have slain the poor fellow on the spot, she would not have scrupled to do so; but she required only an instant to reflect that she had better appease him for the present, and reserve her vengeance for a more convenient season.

She dried her eyes and turned them on him with an air of gentle, almost forgiving reproach.

“Sam!  I could not have believed you had such a bad, wicked heart.  I thought you knew me better.  I won’t make myself so cheap as to explain all that to you.  But I’ll ask yon to do one thing for me.  When we go home this evening, if you see my father alone, you tell him what you saw—­and if you’ve got any shame in you you’ll be ashamed of yourself.”

He had been irritated by her anger, but he was completely abashed by the coolness and gentleness which followed her burst of tears.  He was sorely confused and bewildered by her command, but did not dream of anything but obeying it, and as they walked silently home, he was all the time wondering what mysterious motive she could have in wishing him to denounce her to her father.  They found Saul Matchin sitting by the door, smoking a cob-pipe.  Maud went in and Sam seated himself beside the old man.

“How’d you get along at Farnham’s?” said Saul.

Sam started, as if “the boss” had read his uneasy conscience.  But he answered in his drawling monotone: 

“All right, I guess.  That doggoned Scotchman thinks he knows it all; but it’ll take nigh on to a week to do what I could ha’ done in a day or two, if I worked my way.”

“Well,” said Saul, “that ain’t none o’ your lookout.  Do what Scotchee tells you, and I’ll keep the time on ’em.  We kin stand it, ef they kin,” and the old carpenter laughed with the foolish pleasure of a small mind aware of an advantage.  “Ef Art.  Farnham wants to keep a high-steppin’ Scotchman to run his flowers, may be he kin afford it.  I ain’t his gardeen.”