Fern danced again with the young farmer; she forgot Cy while she was talking with a girl who had taken the University agricultural course.  Cy could not have returned the bottle; he came staggering toward her—­taking time to make himself offensive to every girl on the way and to dance a jig.  She insisted on their returning.  Cy went with her, chuckling and jigging.  He kissed her, outside the door. . . .  “And to think I used to think it was interesting to have men kiss you at a dance!”. . .  She ignored the kiss, in the need of getting him home before he started a fight.  A farmer helped her harness the buggy, while Cy snored in the seat.  He awoke before they set out; all the way home he alternately slept and tried to make love to her.

“I’m almost as strong as he is.  I managed to keep him away while I drove—­such a rickety buggy.  I didn’t feel like a girl; I felt like a scrubwoman—­no, I guess I was too scared to have any feelings at all.  It was terribly dark.  I got home, somehow.  But it was hard, the time I had to get out, and it was quite muddy, to read a sign-post—­I lit matches that I took from Cy’s coat pocket, and he followed me—­he fell off the buggy step into the mud, and got up and tried to make love to me, and——­I was scared.  But I hit him.  Quite hard.  And got in, and so he ran after the buggy, crying like a baby, and I let him in again, and right away again he was trying——­But no matter.  I got him home.  Up on the porch.  Mrs. Bogart was waiting up. . . .

“You know, it was funny; all the time she was—­oh, talking to me—­and Cy was being terribly sick—­I just kept thinking, ’I’ve still got to drive the buggy down to the livery stable.  I wonder if the livery man will be awake?’ But I got through somehow.  I took the buggy down to the stable, and got to my room.  I locked my door, but Mrs. Bogart kept saying things, outside the door.  Stood out there saying things about me, dreadful things, and rattling the knob.  And all the while I could hear Cy in the back yard-being sick.  I don’t think I’ll ever marry any man.  And then today——­

“She drove me right out of the house.  She wouldn’t listen to me, all morning.  Just to Cy.  I suppose he’s over his headache now.  Even at breakfast he thought the whole thing was a grand joke.  I suppose right this minute he’s going around town boasting about his ‘conquest.’  You understand—­oh, don’t you understand?  I did keep him away!  But I don’t see how I can face my school.  They say country towns are fine for bringing up boys in, but——­I can’t believe this is me, lying here and saying this.  I don’t believe what happened last night.

“Oh.  This was curious:  When I took off my dress last night—­it was a darling dress, I loved it so, but of course the mud had spoiled it.  I cried over it and——­No matter.  But my white silk stockings were all torn, and the strange thing is, I don’t know whether I caught my legs in the briers when I got out to look at the sign-post, or whether Cy scratched me when I was fighting him off.”