"What makes you think so?" Gilbert asked, coming close to the old man.

"She told me she would." He got it out bravely.

Young Jones was nearly bowled over. "She told you!" he repeated; and as he
said it, passion for the first time came into his voice. There was the
sound of hoof beats down the road. But neither of them paid any attention.

"Absolutely," the old man affirmed.

"Absolutely?"

"Absogoshdarnlutely!" Uncle Henry relieved the tension by saying.

Gilbert came over and peered into his uncle's face. "You don't mean you
spoke to her about it?" he said.

"Why not?" rather impudently. "Somebody had to do it." And he chuckled. "I
know what would become of Hypocricy if a few of you youngsters would be as
brave as us old boys!"

"Good Lord!" was all young Jones could say, and he put his hand to his
head.

"John Alden spoke for Miles Standish, an' they wasn't even related," Uncle
Henry tried to placate the other.

The horse on the road, unknown to the men, had reached the adobe. Lucia
Pell, radiant as a prairie flower, appeared at the door. She wore a
riding-habit that fit her to perfection, and her hair, tumbled a bit by the