“Oh, you can’t back out, now!” exclaimed Mrs. Maynard joyously.  “You’ve said it.”

“And you’re quite right, Mr. Libby,” said Grace haughtily.  She bade him good-morning; but he followed her from the room, and left Mrs. Maynard to her triumph.

“Miss Breen—­Do let me speak to you, please!  Upon my word and honor, I didn’t know what she was driving at; I did n’t, indeed!  It’s pretty rough on me, for I never dreamt of setting myself up as a judge of your affairs.  I know you’re right, whatever you think; and I take it all back; it was got out of me by fraud, any way.  And I beg your pardon for not calling you Doctor—­if you want me to do it.  The other comes more natural; but I wish to recognize you in the way you prefer, for I do feel most respectul—­reverent—­”

He was so very earnest and so really troubled, and he stumbled about so for the right word, and hit upon the wrong one with such unfailing disaster, that she must have been superhuman not to laugh.  Her laughing seemed to relieve him even more than her hearty speech.  “Call me how you like, Mr. Libby.  I don’t insist upon anything with you; but I believe I prefer Miss Breen.”

“You’re very kind!  Miss Breen it is, then.  And you’ll, forgive my siding against you?” he demanded radiantly.

“Don’t speak of that again, please.  I’ve nothing to forgive you.”

They walked down-stairs and out on the piazza.  Barlow stood before the steps, holding by the bit a fine bay mare, who twitched her head round a little at the sound of Libby’s voice, and gave him a look.  He passed without noticing the horse.  “I’m glad to find Mrs. Maynard so well.  With that cold of hers, hanging on so long, I didn’t know but she’d be in an awful state this morning.”

“Yes,” said Grace, “it’s a miraculous escape.”

“The fact is I sent over to New Leyden for my team yesterday.  I did n’t know how things might turn out, and you’re so far from a lemon here, that I thought I might be useful in going errands.”

Grace turned her head and glanced at the equipage.  “Is that your team?”

“Yes,” said the young fellow, with a smile of suppressed pride.

“What an exquisite creature!” said the girl.

“Isn’t she?” They both faced about, and stood looking at the mare, and the light, shining, open buggy behind her.  The sunshine had the after-storm glister; the air was brisk, and the breeze blew balm from the heart of the pine forest.  “Miss Breen,” he broke out, “I wish you’d take a little dash through the woods with me.  I’ve got a broad-track buggy, that’s just right for these roads.  I don’t suppose it’s the thing at all to ask you, on such short acquaintance, but I wish you would.  I know you’d enjoy it:  Come?”

His joyous urgence gave her a strange thrill.  She had long ceased to imagine herself the possible subject of what young ladies call attentions, and she did not think of herself in that way now.  There was something in the frank, eager boyishness of the invitation that fascinated her, and the sunny face turned so hopefully upon her had its amusing eloquence.  She looked about the place with an anxiety of which she was immediately ashamed:  all the ladies were out of sight, and probably at the foot of the cliff.