the edge of the cliff'; now you ought to have said, 'I SAW you
when I was LYING--'"

"I wasn't," she said sharply, "I don't tell lies--" her hand shot
from his waist and she slid suddenly to the ground. He pulled in
his horse and turned a bewildered face. She had lighted on her
feet and was poised back above him like an enraged eaglet--her
thin nostrils quivering, her mouth as tight as a bow-string, and
her eyes two points of fire.

"Why--June!"

"Ef you don't like my clothes an' the way I talk, I reckon I'd
better go back home." With a groan Hale tumbled from his horse.
Fool that he was, he had forgotten the sensitive pride of the
mountaineer, even while he was thinking of that pride. He knew
that fun might be made of her speech and her garb by her
schoolmates over at the Gap, and he was trying to prepare her--to
save her mortification, to make her understand.

"Why, June, little girl, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. You
don't understand--you can't now, but you will. Trust me, won't
you? _I_ like you just as you are. I LOVE the way you talk. But
other people--forgive me, won't you?" he pleaded. "I'm sorry. I
wouldn't hurt you for the world."

She didn't understand--she hardly heard what he said, but she did
know his distress was genuine and his sorrow: and his voice melted
her fierce little heart. The tears began to come, while she
looked, and when he put his arms about her, she put her face on