fascinating to him in her present inaccessible intelligence and
practicality.

"I confess," he said, looking into her eyes with a vague smile, "I did
not expect you would be so forgetful of some one who had evidently cared
for you."

"Meaning Mr. Chet Brooks, or Mr. Joyce Masterton, or both. That's like
most yo' men, co'nnle. Yo' reckon because a girl pleases yo' she ought
to be grateful all her life--and yo'rs, too! Yo' think different
now! But yo' needn't act up to it quite so much." She made a little
deprecating gesture with her disengaged hand as if to ward off any
retaliating gallantry. "I ain't speaking for myself, co'nnle. Yo' and me
are good enough friends. But the girls round here think yo' 're a trifle
too much taken up with rice and niggers. And looking at it even in yo'r
light, co'nnle, it ain't BUSINESS. Yo' want to keep straight with Major
Reed, so it would be just as well to square the major's woman folks.
Tavy and Gussie Reed ain't exactly poisonous, co'nnle, and yo' might see
one or the other home from church next Sunday. The Sunday after that,
just to show yo' ain't particular, and that yo' go in for being a
regular beau, yo' might walk home with ME. Don't be frightened--I've got
a better gown than this. It's a new one, just come home from Louisville,
and I'll wear it for the occasion."

He did not dare to say that the quaint frock she was then wearing--a
plain "checked" household gingham used for children's pinafores, with
its ribbons of the same pattern, gathered in bows at the smart apron
pockets--had become a part of her beauty, for he was already hopelessly
conscious that she was lovely in anything, and he might be impelled to
say so. He thanked her gravely and earnestly, but without gallantry or