She glanced up.

"If you like," she answered.

"If I like!" he echoed, half-mockingly, half-tenderly; "You know I
like! Why, you've got that wretched bird with you!"

"He's not a wretched bird," she said,--"He's a darling!"

"Well, you can't climb up here hugging him like that! Let him go,
--and then I'll help you."

For all answer she ascended the ladder lightly without assistance,
still holding the dove, and in another minute was seated beside
him.

"There!" she said, as she settled herself comfortably down in the
soft, sweet-smelling hay. "Now you've got your wish, and I hope
Dad is happy."

"Did he tell you to come, or did you come of your own accord?"
asked the young man, with a touch of curiosity.

"He told me, of course," she answered; "I should never have come
of my own accord."

He bit his lip vexedly. Turning away from her he called to the
haymakers:

"That'll do, boys! Fetch Roger, and haul in!"