"I'm sorry," said the younger girl, demurely. "But I got _so_ nervous."
"I know," whispered Lyddy. "Some of those awful recitations _were_ trying."
And 'Phemie had to giggle at that; but she made no further explanation.
The ponies drew them swiftly over the mountain road and under the white light of a misty moon they quickly turned into the lane leading to Hillcrest. As the team dropped to a walk, 'Phemie suddenly leaned forward and clutched the driver's arm.
"Look yonder, Lucas!" she whispered. "There, by the corner of the house."
"Whoa!" muttered Lucas, and brought the horses to a halt.
The girls and Lucas all saw the two figures. They wavered for a moment and then one hurried behind the high stone wall between the yard and the old orchard. The other crossed the front yard boldly toward the highroad.
"They came from the direction of the east wing," whispered 'Phemie.
"Who do you suppose they are?" asked Lyddy, more placidly. "Somebody who tried to call on us?"
"That there feller," said Lucas, slowly, his voice shaking oddly, as he pointed with his whip after the man who just then gained the highroad, "that there feller is Lem Judson Spink--I know his long hair and broad-brimmed hat."
"What?" cried 'Phemie. "The man who lived here at Hillcrest when he was a boy?"
"So they say," admitted Lucas. "Dad knew him. They went to school together. He's a rich man now."
"But what could he possibly want up here?" queried Lyddy, as the ponies went on. "And who was the other man?"
"I--I dunno who he was," blurted out Lucas, still much disturbed in voice and appearance.
But after the girls had disembarked, and bidden Lucas good night, and the young farmer had driven away, 'Phemie said to her sister, as the latter was unlocking the door of the farmhouse:
"Why, who was it, 'Phemie?" queried her sister, with revived interest.
"Cyrus Pritchett," stated 'Phemie, with conviction, and nothing her sister could say would shake her belief in that fact.
"Who is this Mr. Spink?" asked Lydia Bray the following morning, as they prepared for church.
It was a beautiful spring morning. There had been a pattering shower at sunrise and the eaves were still dripping, while every blade of the freshly springing grass in the side yard--which was directly beneath the girls' window--sparkled as though diamond-decked over night.