The wagon had reached the well, and without stopping, the large white-and-red oxen moved on into the turnpike.  Bending from her high seat, Molly Merryweather smiled at the miller, who made a single stride toward her.  Then her glance passed to the stranger, and for an instant she held his gaze with a pair of eyes that appeared to reflect his in shape, setting and colour.  In the man’s face there showed perplexity, admiration, ironic amusement; in the girl’s there was a glimmer of the smile with which she had challenged the adoring look of the miller.

The flush left the features of young Revercomb, and he turned back, with a scowl on his forehead, while old Adam cackled softly over the stem of his pipe.

“Wiles come as natchel to women as wickedness to men, young Adam,” he said.  “The time to beware of ’em is in yo’ youth befo’ they’ve bewitched yo’.  Why, ’tis only since I’ve turned ninety that I’ve trusted myself to think upon the sex with freedom.”

“I’m bewarin’,” replied his son, “but when Molly Merryweather widens her eyes and bites her underlip, it ain’t in the natur of man or beast to stand out agin her.  Why, if it had been anybody else but the rector I could have sworn I saw him squeezin’ her hand when he let down the bars for her last Sunday.”

“It’s well knowed that when he goes to upbraid her for makin’ eyes at him durin’ the ‘Have mercy on me,’ he takes a mortal long time about the business,” responded Solomon, “but, good Lord, ’tain’t fur me to wish it different, seein’ it only bears out all I’ve argured about false doctrines an’ evil practice.  From the sprinklin’ of the head thar’s but a single step downward to the holdin’ of hands.”

“Well, I’m a weak man like the rest of you,” rejoined young Adam, “an’ though I’m sound on the doctrines—­in practice I sometimes backslide.  I’m thankful, however, it’s the lesser sin an’ don’t set so heavy on the stomach.”

“Ah, it’s the light women like Molly Merryweather that draws the eyes of the young,” lamented old Adam.

“A pretty bit of vanity, is she?” inquired the stranger lightly, and fell back the next instant before the vigorous form of the miller, who swung round upon him with the smothered retort, “That’s a lie!” The boyish face of the young countryman had paled under his sunburn and he spoke with the suppressed passion of a man who is not easily angered and who responds to the pressure of some absorbing emotion.

“Lord, Lord, Abel, Mr. Jonathan warn’t meanin’ no particular disrespect, not mo’ was I,” quavered old Adam.

“You’re too pipin’ hot, miller,” interposed Solomon.  “They warn’t meanin’ any harm to you nor to the gal either.  With half the county courtin’ her it ain’t to be expected that she’d go as sober as a grey mare, is it?”

“Well, they’re wastin’ their time,” retorted the miller, “for she marries me, thank God, this coming April.”

Turning away the next instant, he vaulted astride the bare back of the mare, and started at a gallop in the direction of the turnpike.