tease and torture me with doubt, and when I should be thinking of my
duties I am wondering whether or not you care for me. Do you love me? I
must have a plain answer."

"Love you?" she repeated pensively. "I hardly know, but--"

"But what?" he asked impatiently.

"But--I must just see after the pies; this 'help' of ours is Irish, an'
doesn't know enough to turn them in the oven. And Mr. Hooper don't like
burnt pies."

She spoke with coquettish gravity, and got up to go out of the room. But
when Mr. Letgood also rose, she stopped and smiled--waiting perhaps for
him to take his leave. As he did not speak she shook out her frock and
then pulled down her bodice at the waist and drew herself up, thus
throwing into relief the willowy outlines of her girlish form. The
provocative grace, unconscious or intentional, of the attitude was not
lost on her admirer. For an instant he stood irresolute, but when she
stepped forward to pass him, he seemed to lose his self-control, and,
putting his arms round her, tried to kiss her. With serpent speed and
litheness she bowed her head against his chest, and slipped out of the
embrace. On reaching the door she paused to say, over her shoulder: "If
you'll wait, I'll be back right soon;" then, as if a new thought had
occurred to her, she added turning to him: "The Deacon told me he was
coming home early to-day, and he'd be real sorry to miss you."

As she disappeared, he took up his hat, and left the house.

It was about four o'clock on a day in mid-June. The sun was pouring down