morning he was at work, busily washing the mud from the
carriage, dusting the cushions, and polishing up the buckles and
rosettes on his horses' harnesses. It was a beautiful, crisp, clear
dawn-the ideal day for a ride; and Will was singing as he worked.
He had regained his real sell, and, having passed through a bitter
period of shame, was now joyous with anticipation of forgiveness.
He looked forward to the day with its chances of doing a thousand
little things to show his regret and his love.

He had not seen Agnes since Monday, because Tuesday he did not
go back to help thresh, and Wednesday he had been obliged to go
to town to see about board for the coming term; but he felt sure of
her. It had all been arranged the Sunday before; she'd expect him,
and he was to call at eight o'clock.

He polished up the colts with merry tick-tack of the brush and
comb, and after the last stroke on their shining limbs, threw his
tools in the box and went to the house.

"Pretty sharp last night," said his brother John, who was scrubbing
his face at the cistern.

"Should say so by that rim of ice," Will replied, dipping his hands
into the icy water.

"I ought'o stay home today an' dig tates," continued the older man
thoughtfully as they went into the wood-shed and wiped
consecutively on the long roller towel. "Some o' them Early Rose
lay right on top o' the ground. They'll get nipped sure."