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A gleam of satisfaction lit Anson's shifty eyes. "All right," he said shortly, and went off after the herd. "Go outside," he whispered. "Please do; I kin stand anythin', but I don't want you to see it." "Nuthin'. Promised I wouldn't tell him no ghost stories fer a week if he'd help me out.".

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"Ugh!" Anson shuddered and pulled the bed clothes up about his ears. "How did it get it, Bill! Does anybody know?" It was a charming spring morning, warm as June and brilliant as a diamond. The sea was white with the light of the sun, and the radiance of the water clarified the sky into a tender azure, along which floated a number of little mother-of-pearl clouds brushed by a breeze which kept sea and land in motion with a feathering of ripples and the dance of shadows. The emotion of an impassioned heart, the melody of a rich and manly voice were in his words, and no man, though he should hate the fellow for his wrong-doing, could have doubted his sincerity whilst listening to his speech. Add to this his superb figure, his handsome face glowing with feeling, the hereditary dignity of his demeanour; but these were expressions of his meaning which she would not raise her eyes to witness. "Jest a minute, young man." Caleb's voice was stern. "I see you've cut your own and your best gal's initials onto my new bench. Did you have much trouble doin' it, might I ask?".