"I thought so.'J.B.'must have had a lot of spare time at his disposal,for his initials are cut into the 'Widder'Pendleton's gate post on the inner side,and into an apple tree in the back yard.""How interesting!"
"Did you know Joe and Hepsey were going out to-night?""No,I didn't--they're not my intimate friends.""I don't see how Joe expects to marry on the income derived from the village chariot.""Have they got that far?"
"I don't know,"replied Winfield,with the air of one imparting a confidence."You see,though I have been in this peaceful village for some little time,I have not yet arrived at the fine distinction between 'walking out,'settin'up,'and 'stiddy comp'ny.'I should infer that 'walking out'came first,for 'settin'up'must take a great deal more courage,but even 1,with my vast intellect,cannot at present understand 'stiddy comp'ny.'""Joe takes her out every Sunday in the carriage,"volunteered Ruth,when the silence became awkward.
"In the what?"
"Carriage--haven't you ridden in it?"
"I have ridden in them,but not in it.I walked to the 'Widder's,'but if it is the conveyance used by travellers,they are both 'walking out'and 'settin'up.'"They paused at the gate."Thank you for a pleasant afternoon,"said Winfield."I don't have many of them."
"You're welcome,"returned Ruth,conveying the impression of great distance.
Winfield sighed,then made a last desperate attempt."Miss Thorne,"he said,pleadingly,"please don't be unkind to me.You have my reason in your hands.I can see myself now,sitting on the floor,at one end of the dangerous ward.They'll smear my fingers with molasses and give me half a dozen feathers to play with.You'll come to visit the asylum,sometime,when you're looking for a special,and at first,you won't recognise me.Then I'll say:'Woman,behold your work,'and you'll be miserable all the rest of your life."She laughed heartily at the distressing picture,and the plaintive tone of his voice pierced her armour."What's the matter with you?"she asked.
"I don't know--I suppose it's my eyes.I'm horribly restless and discontented,and it isn't my way."Then Ruth remembered her own restless weeks,which seemed so long ago,and her heart stirred with womanly sympathy."I know,"she said,in a different tone,"I've felt the same way myself,almost ever since I've been here,until this very afternoon.You're tired and nervous,and you haven't anything to do,but you'll get over it.""I hope you're right.I've been getting Joe to read the papers to me,at a quarter a sitting,but his pronunciation is so unfamiliar that it's hard to get the drift,and the whole thing exasperated me so that I had to give it up.""Let me read the papers to you,"she said,impulsively,"Ihaven't seen one for a month."
There was a long silence."I don't want to impose upon you,"he answered--"no,you mustn't do it."Ruth saw a stubborn pride that shrank from the slightest dependence,a self-reliance that would not failter,but would steadfastly hold aloof,and she knew that in one thing,at least,they were kindred.
"Let me,"she cried,eagerly;"I'll give you my eyes for a little while!"Winfield caught her hand and held it for a moment,fully understanding.Ruth's eyes looked up into his--deep,dark,dangerously appealing,and alight with generous desire.
His fingers unclasped slowly."Yes,I will,"he said,strangely moved."It's a beautiful gift--in more ways than one.You are very kind--thank you--good night!"
