“Absalom,” said Tillie, gravely, with a little air of dignity that did not wholly fail to impress him, “I insist on it that you never speak of the teacher in that way in connection with me.  You might as well speak of my marrying the County Superintendent!  He’d be just as likely to ask me!”

The county superintendent of public instruction was held in such awe that his name was scarcely mentioned in an ordinary tone of voice.

“As if there’s no difference from a teacher at William Penn to the county superintendent!  You ain’t that dumm, Tillie!”

“The difference is that the teacher at William Penn is superior in every way to the county superintendent!”

She spoke impulsively, and she regretted her words the moment they were uttered.  But Absalom only half comprehended her meaning.

“You think you ain’t good enough fur him, and you think I ain’t good enough fur you!” he grumbled.  “I have never saw such a funny girl!  Well,” he nodded confidently, “you’ll think different one of these here days!”

“You must not cherish any false hopes, Absalom,” Tillie insisted in some distress.

“Well, fur why don’t you want to have me?” he demanded for the hundredth time.

“Absalom,”—­Tillie tried a new mode of discouragement,—­“I don’t want to get married because I don’t want to be a farmer’s wife—­ they have to work too hard!”

It was enough to drive away any lover in the countryside, and for a moment Absalom was staggered.

“Well!” he exclaimed, “a woman that’s afraid of work ain’t no wife fur me, anyways!”

Tillie’s heart leaped high for an instant in the hope that now she had effectually cooled his ardor.  But it sank again as she recalled the necessity of retaining at least his good-will and friendship, that she might protect the teacher.

“Now, Absalom,” she feebly protested, “did you ever see me afraid of work?”

“Well, then, if you ain’t afraid of workin’, what makes you talk so contrary?”

“I don’t know.  Come, let me read this nice book you’ve brought me,” she urged, much as she might have tried to divert one of her little sisters or brothers.

“I’d ruther just set.  I ain’t much fur readin’.  Jake Getz he says he’s goin’ to chase you to bed at ten—­and ten comes wonderful soon Sundays.  Leave us just set.”

Tillie well understood that this was to endure Absalom’s clownish wooing.  But for the sake of the cause, she said to herself, she would conquer her repugnance and bear it.

For two weeks after Tillie’s return home, she did not once have a word alone with Fairchilds.  He came several times, ostensibly on errands from her aunt; but on each occasion he found her hard at work in her father’s presence.  At his first visit, Tillie, as he was leaving, rose from her corn-husking in the barn to go with him to the gate, but her father interfered.

“You stay where you’re at!”