circumstances of life had combined to make her what she was? His manner
towards her was kind and serious, and by degrees this covert respect
awoke in her a desire to deserve it. She spoke calmly and soberly,
exhibiting a wonderful knowledge as they rode onwards, not only of
farming, but of animals, trees, and plants.

The team, knowing that home and rest were near, marched cheerily up and
down the hills along the border, and before sunset, emerging from the
woods, they overlooked the little valley, the mill, and the nestling
farmhouse. An Indian war-whoop rang across the meadow, and Gilbert
recognized Sam's welcome therein.

"Now, Deborah," said he, "you shall stop and have some supper, before
you go any farther."

"I'm obliged, all the same," said she, "but I must push on. I've to go
beyond the Square, and couldn't wait. But tell your mother if she wants
a man's arm in house-cleanin' time to let me know. And, Mr. Gilbert, let
me say one thing: give me your hand."

The horses had stopped to drink at the creek. He gave her his right
hand.

She held it in hers a moment, gazing intently on the palm. Then she bent
her head and blew upon it gently, three times.

"Never mind: it's my fancy," she said. "You're born for trial and
good-luck, but the trials come first, all of a heap, and the good luck
afterwards. You've got a friend in Deb. Smith, if you ever need one.
Good-bye to ye!"