little luncheon, and pressed it upon the others, with a nice
hospitality. Elvin shook his head, but Molly ate a trifle, for pride's
sake.

"You go an' git him a mite o' water," whispered Dilly, when they had
finished. "I would, but I dunno the ways o' this place. It'll taste
good to him."

Molly nodded, and hurried away; presently she came back, bearing a tin
cup, and Elvin drank, though he did not thank her.

In the early afternoon, Ebenezer Tolman came striding down between the
pens in ostentatious indignation. He was a tall, red-faced man, with a
large, loose mouth, and blond-gray whiskers, always parted and blowing
in the wind. He wore, with manifest pride, the reputation of being a
dangerous animal when roused. He had bought a toy whip, at little
Davie's earnest solicitation, and, lashing it suggestively against his
boot, he began speaking long before he reached the little group. The
lagging crowd of listeners paused, breathless, to lose no word.

"Look here, you! don't ye darken my doors ag'in, an' don't ye dast to
open your head to one o' my folks! We're done with ye! Do you hear?
We're done with ye! Rosy'll ride home with me to-night, an' she'll ride
with you no more!"

Elvin said nothing, though his brow contracted suddenly at Rosa's name.
Ebenezer was about to speak again; but the little parson came striding
swiftly up, his long coat flying behind him, and Tolman, who was a
church-member, in good and regular standing, moved on. But the parson
was routed, in his turn. Dilly rose, and, as some one afterwards said,