"I shouldn't have told her that people said she had large feet and wore
men's shoes. She's got a pretty foot; I noticed it particularly before I
spoke--I suppose she didn't like that--most girls wouldn't, I guess, but
she took it as a hunter takes a fence. Even after that, she said she'd
help me be patient, and last night, when she said she'd read the papers
to me--she was awfully sweet to me then.
"Perhaps she likes me a little bit--I hope so. She'd never care very
much for anybody, though--she's too independent. She wouldn't even let
me help her up the hill; I don't know whether it was independence, or
whether she didn't want me to touch her. If we ever come to a place
where she has to be helped, I suppose I'll have to put gloves on, or let
her hold one end of a stick while I hang on to the other.
"Still she didn't take her hand away last night, when I grabbed it.
Probably she was thinking about something else, and didn't notice. It's
a particularly nice hand to hold, but I'll never have another chance, I
guess.
"Carlton said she'd take the conceit out of me, if I had any. I'm glad
he didn't put that in the letter, still it doesn't matter, since I've lost
it. I wish I hadn't, for what he said about me was really very nice.
Carlton is a good fellow.
"How she lit on me when I thought the crazy person might make a good
special! Jerusalem! I felt like the dust under her feet. I'd be glad
to have anybody stand up for me, like that, but nobody ever will. She's
mighty pretty when she's angry, but I'd rather she wouldn't get huffy at
me. She's a tremendously nice girl--there's no doubt of that."
At this juncture, Joe came out on the porch, hat in hand. "Mornin', Mr.
Winfield."
"Good morning, Joe; how are your troubles this morning?"
"They're ill right, I guess," he replied, pleased with the air of
comradeship. "Want me to read the paper to yer?"
"No, thank you, Joe, not this morning."
The tone was a dismissal, but Joe lingered, shifting from one foot to
the other. "Ain't I done it to suit yer?"
"Quite so," returned Winfield, serenely.
"I don't mind doin' it," Joe continued, after a long silence. "I won't
charge yer nothin'."
"You're very kind, Joe, but I don't care about it to-day." Winfield rose
and walked to the other end of the porch. The apple trees were in bloom,
and every wandering wind was laden with sweetness. Even the gnarled old
tree in Miss Hathaway's yard, that had been out of bearing for many a
year, had put forth a bough of fragrant blossoms. He saw it from where
he stood; a mass of pink and white against the turquoise sky, and
thought that Miss Thorne would make a charming picture if she stood
beneath the tree with the blown petals drifting around her.