She looked round at him, flushed, her dark eyes shining, her fine hair falling about her face.
"Hello!" she said, soft and musical.

"I knew it was you." "How ?" "I knew your step.

Nobody treads so quick and firm." He sat down, sighing.
"Ready to do some algebra ?" he asked, drawing a little book from his pocket.
"But--" He could feel her backing away.
"You said you wanted," he insisted.
"To-night, though ?" she faltered.
"But I came on purpose.

And if you want to learn it, you must begin." She took up her ashes in the dustpan and looked at him, half tremulously, laughing.
"Yes, but to-night! You see, I haven't thought of it." "Well, my goodness! Take the ashes and come." He went and sat on the stone bench in the back-yard, where the big milk-cans were standing, tipped up, to air.

The men were in the cowsheds.