By this time they had joined her father and begun to set out the row of hemlocks.  To her surprise, Sue had found herself a little disappointed that he had not availed himself of his one opportunity to be at least “a bit friendly” as she phrased it.  It was mortifying to a girl to be expecting “something awkward to meet” and nothing of the kind take place.  “After all,” she thought, “perhaps he came out just for a lark, or, worse still, is amusing himself at my expense; or he may have come on an exploring expedition and plain old father and mother, and the plain little farmhouse, have satisfied him.  Well, the dinner wasn’t very plain, but he may have been laughing in his sleeve at our lack of style in serving it.  Then this old dress!  I probably appear to him a perfect guy.”  And she began to hate it, and devoted it to the rag-bag the moment she could get it off.

This line of thought, once begun, seemed so rational that she wondered it had not occurred to her before.  “The idea of my being so ridiculously on the defensive!” she thought.  “No, it wasn’t ridiculous either, as far as my action went, for he can never say I acted as if I wanted him to speak.  My conceit in expecting him to speak the moment he got a chance was absurd.  He has begun to be very polite and formal.  That’s always the way with men when they want to back out of anything.  He came out to look us over, and me in particular; he made himself into a scarecrow just because I looked like one, and now will go home and laugh it all over with his city friends.  Oh, why did he come and spoil my day?  Even he said it was my day, and he has done a mean thing in spoiling it.  Well, he may not carry as much self-complacency back to town as he thinks he will.  Such a cold-blooded spirit, too!—­to come upon us unawares in order to spy out everything, for fear he might get taken in!  You were very attentive and flattering in the city, sir, but now you are disenchanted.  Well, so am I.”

Under the influence of this train of thought she grew more and more silent.  The sun was sinking westward in undimmed splendor, but her face was clouded.  The air was sweet, balmy, well adapted to sentiment and the setting out of trees, but she was growing frosty.

“Hiram,” she said shortly, “you’ve got that oak crooked; let me hold it.”  And thereafter she held the trees for the old colored man as he filled in the earth around them.

Minturn appeared as oblivious as he was keenly observant.  At first the change in Sue puzzled and discouraged him; then, as his acute mind sought her motives, a rosy light began to dawn upon him.  “I may be wrong,” he thought, “but I’ll take my chances in acting as if I were right before I go home.”

At last Hiram said:  “Reckon I’ll have to feed de critters again;” and he slouched off.