more; we're very sorry. We--I'm sure--we think you are very nice."

Her feeling tone drew from him a perfectly sincere reply, "So I am; I'm
really a very nice young man. My mother brought me up real well." He
added benevolently, "If you're scared of the road, come right through my
place here, and I'll set you on your own farm double quick."

It was with pleasurable fear that the girls got through the fence with
his help. They whispered to each other their self-excuses, saying that
mamma would like them to be in their own fields as quickly as possible.

The moonlight was now gloriously bright. The shrubs of the old garden,
in full verdure, were mysteriously beautiful in the light. The old house
could be clearly seen. Harkness led them across a narrow open space in
front of it, that had once been a gravel drive, but was now almost green
with weeds and grasses. On the other side the bushes grew, as it seemed,
in great heaps, with here and there an opening, moonlit, mysterious. As
they passed quickly before the house, the girls involuntarily shied like
young horses to the further side of Harkness, their eyes glancing
eagerly for signs of the old man. In a minute they saw the door in an
opening niche at the corner of the house; on its steps sat the old
preacher, his grey hair shining, his bronzed face bathed in moonlight.
He sat peaceful and quiet, his hands clasped. Harkness next led them
through, a dark overgrown walk, and, true to his promise, brought them
at once to the other fence. He seemed to use the old paling as a gate
whenever the fancy took him. He pulled away two of the rotten soft wood
pales and helped the girls gallantly on to their father's property.

"Charmed, I'm sure, to be of use, ladies!" cried he, and he made his
bow.