yellow handkerchief from his pocket and mopped the sweat from his
forehead, his chin, and the back of his neck.


"Oh!" answered Maud, negligently, "you heard everything, did you? Well,
you didn't hear much."

"I tell you," he continued, with a sullen rage, "I heard every word. Do
you hear me? I heard every word."

The savage roughness of his voice made her tremble, but her spirits
rose to meet his anger, and she laughed as she replied:

"Well, you heard 'Thank you, sir,' and 'Good-morning.' It wasn't much,
unless you took it as a lesson in manners, and goodness knows you need
it."

"Now, look'ye here. It's no use foolin' with me. You know what I heard.
If you don't, I'll tell you!"

"Very well, Mr. Paul Pry, what was it?" said the angry girl, who had
quite forgotten that any words were spoken at the gate.

"I heard him tell you you could come in any time the back way," Sam
hoarsely whispered, watching her face with eyes of fire. She turned
crimson as the sunset she was gazing at, and she felt as if she could
have torn her cheeks with her fingernails for blushing. She was aware
of having done nothing wrong, nothing to be ashamed of. She had been
all day cherishing the recollection of her visit to Farnham as
something too pleasant and delicate to talk about. No evil thought had