moment, gazing into the sweet blue of her eyes; yet, passionately as he
felt that he loved her in that moment, perfect as was the delight of her
presence, a better joy came to his heart when she turned away to speak
with his mother. Mark Deane--a young giant with curly yellow locks, and
a broad, laughing mouth--had just placed a hand upon his shoulder, and
he could not watch the bearing of the two women to each other; but all
his soul listened to their voices, and he heard in Martha Deane's the
kindly courtesy and respect which he did not see.

Mother Fairthorn and Sally so cordially insisted that Mary Potter and
her son should ride home with them to dinner, that no denial was
possible. When the horses were brought up to the block the yard was
nearly empty, and the returning procession was already winding up the
hill towards Logtown.

"Come, Mary," said Mother Fairthorn, "you and I will ride together, and
you shall tell me all about your ducks and turkeys. The young folks can
get along without us, I guess."

Martha Deane had ridden to meeting in company with her cousin Mark and
Sally, but the order of the homeward ride was fated to be different. Joe
and Jake, bestriding a single horse, like two of the Haymon's-children,
were growing inpatient, so they took the responsibility of dashing up to
Mark and Sally, who were waiting in the road, and announcing,--

"Cousin Martha says we're to go on; she'll ride with Gilbert."

Both well knew the pranks of the boys, but perhaps they found the
message well-invented if not true; for they obeyed with secret
alacrity, although Sally made a becoming show of reluctance. Before they