"Well--how do you know that? but, anyway, it's none of your business,
where I go, is it?" She made an effort to stare him out of countenance,
but it ended in lowered head and eyes.

"Carlia! No, of course, it isn't. Excuse me for asking."

There was another period of silence wherein Dorian again wondered at the
girl's strange behavior. Was he annoying her? Perhaps she did not care
to have him paying his crude attentions to her; and yet--

"Tell me about your dry farm," she said.

"I've already plowed eighty acres," he informed her. "The land is rich,
and I expect to raise a big crop next year. I've quite a cosy house, up
there, not far from the creek. The summer evenings are lovely and cool.
I can't get mother to stay over night. I wish you would come and go with
her, and stay a few days."

"How could I stay away from home that long? The heavens would fall."

"Well, that might help some. But, honestly, Carlia, you ought to get
away from this grind a little. It's telling on you. Don't you ever get
into the city?"

"Sometimes Saturday afternoons to deliver butter and eggs."

"Well, some Saturday we'll go to see that moving picture show that's
recently started in town. They say it's wonderful. I've never been.
We'll go together. What do you say?"