"Thomas Payne's got your girl, Barney.

Say, did you know it?
Thomas Payne's got your girl." Finally Ephraim stepped close to Barney and shouted it into his ear: "Say, Barney, Barney Thayer, be you deaf?
Thomas Payne has got--your--_girl!"_ But Barney planted on; his nerves were quivering, the impetus to strike out was so strong in his arms that it seemed as if it must by sheer mental force affect his teasing brother, but he made no sign, and said not another word.
Ephraim, worsted at length by silence, beat a gradual retreat.
Half-way across the field his panting voice called back, "Barney, Thomas Payne has got your girl," and ended in a choking giggle.
Barney planted, and made no response; but when Ephraim was well out of sight, he flung down his hoe with a groaning sigh, and went stumbling across the soft loam of the garden-patch into a little woody thicket beside it.

He penetrated deeply between the trees and underbrush, and at last flung himself down on his face among the soft young flowers and weeds.

"Oh, Charlotte!" he groaned out.

"Oh, Charlotte, Charlotte!" Barney began sobbing and crying like a child as he lay there; he moved his arms convulsively, and tore up handfuls of young grass and leaves, and flung them away in the unconscious gesturing of grief.