the last two or three days you seem cold and sarcastic, as if you were
angry with me. I'd be sorry if that were so--very sorry."

"Why did you ask Jessie Stevens to go with you to the house-warmin'?"
was the girl's retort.

"I certainly didn't ask her," he replied hotly. "You must know I
didn't."

"Then Seth lied!" exclaimed Miss Conklin. "But I guess he'll not try
that again with me--Seth Stevens I mean. He wanted me to go with him to-
night, and I didn't give him the mitten, as I should if I'd thought you
were goin' to ask me."

"What does 'giving the mitten' mean?" he questioned, with a puzzled air.

"Why, jest the plainest kind of refusal, I guess; but I only told him I
was afraid I'd have to go with you, seein' you were a stranger.
'Afraid,'" she repeated, as if the word stung her. "But he'll lose
nothin' by waitin', nothin'. You hear me talk." And her eyes flashed.

As she drew herself up in indignation, Bancroft thought he had never
seen any one so lovely. "A perfect Hebe," he said to himself, and
started as if he had said the words aloud. The comparison was apt.
Though Miss Loo Conklin was only seventeen, her figure had all the
ripeness of womanhood, and her height--a couple of inches above the
average--helped to make her look older than she was. Her face was more
than pretty; it was, in fact, as beautiful as youth, good features, and
healthy colouring could make it. A knotted mass of chestnut hair set off
the shapely head: the large blue eyes were deepened by dark lashes. The