that her hands had lost their tanned appearance. Her feet were
slippered, and she wore black stockings. He remembered the book
of fashion-plates he had once sent her; it was that that had
quickened her instinct of dress. He said nothing, but the happy
light in Easter's face shone brighter as she noted his pleased and
puzzled gaze.

Why, ye look like another man," said Easter's mother, who had
been looking Clayton over with a quizzical smile. "Is that the way
folks dress out in the settlemints? 'N' look at that gal. Ef she hev
done anythin' sence ye hev been gone but____" The rest of the
sentence was smothered in the palm of Easter's hand, and she too
began scrutinizing Clayton closely. The mountaineer said nothing,
and after a curious glance at Easter resumed his pipe.

You look like a pair of butterflies," said the mother when
released. "Sherd oughter be mighty proud of his first marryin'. I
s'pose ye know he air a preacher now? Ye oughter heerd him
preach last Sunday. It was his fust time. The way he lighted inter
the furriners was a caution. He 'lowed he was a-goin' to fight
cyard-playin' and dancin' ez long ez he hed breath."

Yes; 'n' thar's whar Sherd air a fool. I'm ag'in furriners, too, but thar
hain't no harm in dancin, n' thar's goin' to be dancin' at this weddin'
ef I'm alive."

Easter shrank perceptibly when her father spoke, and looked
furtively at Clayton, who winced, in spite of himself, as the rough
voice grated in his ear. Instantly her face grew unhappy, and
contained an appeal for pardon that he was quick to understand