I'm a different fellow down here in the
country, with things to do, and the right sort of things to think
about, and--and you! You see," he smiled without looking up, "I'm not
much good in town."
"How do you mean?" asked Miss Lady, with disconcerting frankness.
Donald shrugged his broad shoulders: "Oh! I don't know. I get into
things before I know it. This Eastern trip, now; it sounded great when
I said I'd go, Cropsie is a regular bird, the best fellow in the world
to go on such a lark with, but--"
Miss Lady shot a glance at the handsome, boyish, irresponsible face
beside her.
"Don't go, Don!" she whispered impulsively; "stay here and buy your
farm!"
"You mean it!" he demanded, seizing her hands. "You want me to stay?"
The blood surged into her cheeks, but she did not withdraw her hands.
Into her eager, luminous eyes had leapt the response that had been
held in abeyance all afternoon.
"If I stay," he pressed hotly, "if I settle down and behave myself,
and make good, you'll promise me--"
"Jimpson!" thundered a familiar voice from the road. "That good-for-
nothing, lazy nigger, why don't he come help me with these things?
Jimpson!"
"I'll tell him, Dad!" called Miss Lady, springing from the hammock.
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