Then he discovered a comb, and a broken bit of mirror fixed to the wall of the lean-to, before which he combed his hair and studied his reflection.

He noted the unusual flush on his cheeks, but grinned brazenly into the glass.
"I'm sure some flustered," he told his reflection.
Arrayed for a second inspection by Mary Bransford, Sanderson stood for a long time at the door of the lean-to, trying to screw up his courage to the point of confronting the girl.
He succeeded finally, and walked slowly to the outside kitchen door, where he stood, looking in at Mary.
The girl was working over the stove, from which, floating to the doorway where Sanderson stood, came various delicious odors.
Mary was arrayed in a neat-fitting house dress of some soft print material, with a huge apron over it.

Her sleeves were rolled slightly above the elbows; her face was flushed, and when she turned and saw Sanderson her eyes grew very bright.
"Oh," she said; "you are up! I was just thinking of calling you!" She ran to him, threw her arms around him, and, in spite of his efforts to evade her, she kissed him first on one cheek and then on the other.
Noting his reluctance she stepped back and looked reprovingly at him.
"You seem so distant, Will.

And I am so glad to see you!" "I ain't used to bein' kissed, I expect." "But--by your sister!" He reddened.

"I ain't seen you for a long time, you know.