She sank into a chair, with the look of the girl who had stood by the blue tent-pole.

He could only stare at her, amazed by her abrupt change to this dazzling, if reproachful, kindness, confused by his good fortune.
"'_If_ you go back to Plattville!'" she said in a low voice.

"What do you mean ?" "I don't know.

I've been dull lately, and I thought I might go somewhere else." Caught in a witchery no lack of possession could dispel, and which the prospect of loss made only stronger while it lasted, he took little thought of what he said; little thought of anything but of the gladness it was to be with her again.
"'Somewhere else ?' Where ?" "Anywhere." "Have you no sense of responsibility?
What is to become of your paper ?" "The 'Herald'?
Oh, it will potter along, I think." "But what has become of it in your absence, already?
Has it not deteriorated very much ?" "No," he said; "it's better than it ever was before." "What!" she cried, with a little gasp.
"You're so astounded at my modesty ?" "But please tell me what you mean," she said quickly.

"What happened to it ?" "Isn't the 'Herald' rather a dull subject?
I'll tell you how well Judge Briscoe looked when he came to see me; or, rather, tell me of your summer in the north." "No," she answered earnestly.