But the persistent beau was equal to the occasion.  He had endured Sue’s absence as long as he could, then had resolved on a long day’s siege, with a grand storming-onset late in the afternoon.

“Please, Miss Banning,” he began, “don’t look askance at me for coming at this unearthly hour.  I claim the sacred rites of hospitality.  I’m an invalid.  The doctor said I needed country air, or would have prescribed it if given a chance.  You said I might come to see you some day, and by playing Paul Pry I found out, you remember, that this was your birthday, and—­”

“And this is my father, Mr. Minturn.”

Mr. Minturn shook the farmer’s hand with a cordiality calculated to awaken suspicions of his designs in a pump, had its handle been thus grasped.  “Mr. Banning will forgive me for appearing with the lark,” he continued volubly, determining to break the ice.  “One can’t get the full benefit of a day in the country if he starts in the afternoon.”

The farmer was polite, but nothing more.  If there was one thing beyond all others with which he could dispense, it was a beau for Sue.

Sue gave her father a significant, disappointed glance, which meant, “I won’t get my present to day”; but he turned and said to Hiram, “Dig the hole right there, two feet across, eighteen inches deep.”  Then he started for the house.  While not ready for suitors, his impulse to bestow hospitality was prompt.

The alert Mr. Minturn had observed the girl’s glance, and knew that the farmer had gone to prepare his wife for a guest.  He determined not to remain unless assured of a welcome.  “Come, Miss Banning,” he said, “we are at least friends, and should be frank.  How much misunderstanding and trouble would often be saved if people would just speak their thought!  This is your birthday—­your day.  It should not be marred by any one.  It would distress me keenly if I were the one to spoil it.  Why not believe me literally and have your way absolutely about this day?  I could come another time.  Now show that a country girl, at least, can speak her mind.”

With an embarrassed little laugh she answered, “I’m half inclined to take you at your word; but it would look so inhospitable.”

“Bah for looks!  The truth, please.  By the way, though, you never looked better than in that trim blue walking-suit.”

“Old outgrown working-suit, you mean.  How sincere you are!”

“Indeed I am.  Well, I’m de trop; that much is plain.  You will let me come another day, won’t you?”

“Yes, and I’ll be frank too and tell you about this day.  Father’s a busy man, and his spring work is beginning, but as my birthday-present he has given me all his time and all Hiram’s yonder.  Well, I learned in the city how trees improved a home; and I had planned to spend this long day in setting out trees—­planned it ever since my return.  So you see—­”