He knew that they all loved her, and it gave him a miserable feeling. He
felt that they were unworthy of her--that they would not worship her
always and become ministers for her sake, as he was going to do. He even
wondered if it wouldn't be better, after all, to become a prize fighter
and to knock them all out in the first round when he got a chance.

In a moment Juliet called him to her side and laid her hand upon his
arm. "He has promised not to rob birds' nests and to love me always,"
she said.

But the young men only laughed.

"Ask something harder," retorted one. "Any of us will do that. Ask him
to stand on his head or to tie himself into a bow knot for your sake."

Nicholas reddened angrily, but Juliet told the jester to try such
experiments himself--that she did not want a contortionist about. Then
she bent over the boy as he said good-bye, and he went down the walk
between the lilies and out into the lane.

He recrossed the green slowly, turning into the main street at the
court-house steps. As he passed the church, a little further on, the
iron gate opened and the rector came out, jingling the heavy keys in his
hand as he talked amicably to a tourist who followed upon his heels.

"Yes, my good sir," he was saying in his high-pitched, emphatic
utterance, "this dear old churchyard is never mowed except by living
lawn-mowers. I assure you that I have seen thirty heads of cattle upon
the vaults--positively, thirty heads, sir!"