“You have no overshoes,” said Winthrop, when they had set out on their way; —­ “I am afraid you are not countrywoman enough to bear this.”

“O yes I am,” said Elizabeth, —­ “I don’t mind it —­ I don’t care for it.  But Mr. Winthrop —­”

“What were you going to say?” he asked, when he had waited half a minute to find out.

“You understood that I did not mean to speak of your mother, when I said that, about thinking it seemed tame to let one’s wishes die out? —­ I excepted her entirely in my thought —­ I was speaking quite in the abstract.”

“I know that, Miss Elizabeth.”

She was quite satisfied with the smile with which he said it.

“How much better that odd little black child liked you than she did me,” she went on with a change of subject and tone together.

“You were a little further off,” said Winthrop.

“Further off?” said Elizabeth.

“I suppose she thought so.”

“Then one must come near people in order to do them good?”

“One mustn’t be too far off,” said Winthrop, “to have one’s words reach them.”

“But I didn’t mean to be far off,” said Elizabeth.

“I didn’t mean to be near.”

Elizabeth looked at him, but he was grave; and then she smiled, and then laughed.

“You’ve hit it!” she exclaimed.  “I shall remember that.”

“Take care, Miss Elizabeth,” said Winthrop, as her foot slipped in the muddy way, —­ “or you will have more to remember than would be convenient.  You had better take my arm.”

So she did; musing a little curiously at herself and that arm, which she had seen in a shirt-sleeve, carrying a pickaxe on shoulder; and making up her mind in spite of it all that she didn’t care!  So the walk home was not otherwise than comfortable.  Indeed the beauty of it was more than once remarked on by both parties.

“Well!” said Rose, when at last Elizabeth came into the room where she was sitting, —­ “have you got home?”

“Yes.”

“What have you been doing all this while?”

“Getting very angry at you in the first place; and then cooling down as usual into the reflection that it was not worth while.”

“Well, I hope Winthrop made good use of his opportunity?”

“Yes, he did,” said Elizabeth coolly, taking off her things.

“And you have engaged him at last as your admirer?”

“Not at all; —­ I have only engaged a little black girl to be my servant.”

“A servant!  What?”

“What do you mean by ’what’?” said Elizabeth contemptuously.

“I mean, what sort of a servant?”

“I am sure I don’t know —­ a black servant.”

“But what for?”

“To do my bidding.”

“But what is she? and where did you pick her up?”

“She is an odd little fish called Clam; and I didn’t pick her up at all; —­ Mr. Landholm did that.”