"Yes."

"That is a long distance, and you must be very tired." There was no
reply; so Yates continued. "At least, I thought it a long distance; but
perhaps that was because I was riding on Bartlett's hay rack. There is
no 'downy bed of ease' about his vehicle."

As he spoke of the wagon he looked at it, and, striding forward to its
side, said in a husky whisper to the professor:

"Say, Stilly, cover up that jug with a flap of the tent."

"Cover it up yourself," briefly replied the other; "it isn't mine."

Yates reached across and, in a sort of accidental way, threw the flap
of the tent over the too conspicuous jar. As an excuse for his action
he took up his walking cane and turned toward his new acquaintance. He
was flattered to see that she was loitering some distance behind the
wagon, and he speedily rejoined her. The girl, looking straight ahead,
now quickened her pace, and rapidly shortened the distance between
herself and the vehicle. Yates, with the quickness characteristic of
him, made up his mind that this was a case of country diffidence, which
was best to be met by the bringing down of his conversation to the
level of his hearer's intelligence.

"Have you been marketing?" he asked.

"Yes."