If his ardour touched her there was no sign of it in the movement with
which she withdrew herself from his grasp.

"You'd better finish your grinding. There isn't the least bit of a
hurry," she returned with a smile.

"If you'll go with me, Molly, you may take your choice and I'll cut the
tree down for you."

"But I can't, Abel, because I've promised Mr. Mullen to visit his
mother."

The glow faded from his eyes and a look like that of an animal under the
lash took its place.

"Come with me, not with him, Molly, you owe me that much," he entreated.

"But he's such a good man, and he preaches such beautiful sermons."

"He does--I know he does, but I love you a thousand times better."

"Oh, he loves me because I am pretty and hard to win--just as you do,"
she retorted. "If I lost my hair or my teeth how many of you, do you
think, would care for me to-morrow?"

"I should--before God I'd love you just as I do now," he answered with
passion.

A half mocking, half tender sound broke from her lips.