Her fingers trembled, and the pulse in her throat beat suffocatingly, but she did not look up.

“Good night, Miss—­Tillie, isn’t it?”

“Matilda Maria,” Tillie’s soft, shy voice replied as her eyes, full of light, were raised, for an instant, to the face above her.

The man smiled and bowed his acknowledgment; then, after an instant’s hesitation, he said, “Pardon me:  the uniform you and Mrs. Wackernagel wear—­may I ask what it is?”

“’Uniform’?” breathed Tillie, wonderingly.  “Oh, you mean the garb?  We are members of meeting.  The world calls us New Mennonites.”

“And this is the uni—­the garb of the New Mennonites?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It is a very becoming garb, certainly,” Fairchilds smiled, gazing down upon the fair young girl with a puzzled look in his own face, for he recognized, not only in her delicate features, and in the light of her beautiful eyes, but also in her speech, a something that set her apart from the rest of this household.

Tillie colored deeply at his words, and the doctor laughed outright.

“By gum!  They wear the garb to make ’em look UNbecomin’!  And he ups and tells her it’s becomin’ yet!  That’s a choke, Teacher!  One on you, ain’t?  That there cap’s to hide the hair which is a pride to the sek!  And that cape over the bust is to hide woman’s allurin’ figger.  See?  And you ups and tells her it’s a becomin’ UNYFORM!  Unyforms is what New Mennonites don’t uphold to!  Them’s fur Cat’lics and ’Piscopals—­and fur warriors—­and the Mennonites don’t favor war!  Unyforms yet!” he laughed.  “I’m swanged if that don’t tickle me!”

“I stand corrected.  I beg pardon if I’ve offended,” Fairchilds said hastily.  “Miss—­Matilda—­I hope I’ve not hurt your feelings?  Believe me, I did not mean to.”

“Och!” the doctor answered for her, “Tillie she ain’t so easy hurt to her feelin’s, are you, Tillie?  Gosh, Teacher, them manners you got must keep you busy!  Well, sometimes I think I’m better off if I stay common.  Then I don’t have to bother.”

The door leading from the bar-room opened suddenly and Jacob Getz stood on the threshold.

“Well, Tillie,” he said by way of greeting.  “Uncle Abe sayed you wasn’t went to bed yet, so I stopped to see you a minute.”

“Well, father,” Tillie answered as she put down her sewing and came up to him.

Awkwardly he bent to kiss her, and Tillie, even in her emotional excitement, realized, with a passing wonder, that he appeared glad to see her after a week of separation.

“It’s been some lonesome, havin’ you away,” he told her.

“Is everybody well?” she asked.

“Yes, middlin’.  You was sewin’, was you?” he inquired, glancing at the work on the table.

“Yes, sir.”

“All right.  Don’t waste your time.  Next Saturday I ’ll stop off after market on my way out from Lancaster and see you oncet, and get your wages off of Aunty Em.”