looked at her lover and broke into a laugh.

"Let me skate up the canal and head him off," said he. "Half a mile
will give me lead enough to slip out of these things and collar him
on the highway."

"He is not worth it. Besides, he may not be going towards Kelstein:
in this light we cannot see the road or what direction he takes.
Let him be, dear," Hetty persuaded, as the old woman called out from
her cabin that the kettle boiled. "Our time is too precious."

Then, while he yet fumed, she suddenly grew grave.

"Was it truth he was telling?"

"Truth?" he echoed.

"Yes: about Lincoln Fair?"

"Oh, the boxing-booth, you mean? Well, my dear, there was something
in it, to be sure. You wouldn't have me be a milksop, would you?"

"No-o," she mused. "But I meant what he said about--about those
women. Was that true?"

He was on the point of answering with a lie; but while he hesitated
she helped him by adding, "I am not a child, dear. I am
twenty-seven, and older than you. Please be honest with me, always."

He was young, but had an instinct for understanding women.