"It's scarcely likely to happen," he evaded awkwardly.
"Mavy, I've sure got you fixed. The curious thing is they allow at the settlement that you could most talk the head off any of the boys."
"I really don't see what satisfaction you expected it to afford you," Thorne rejoined.
"I guessed it would help to put Nevis out of your mind. I'd an idea you wanted cheering up--and I felt a little like that myself."
The girl's manner changed abruptly as she rose, and there was only concern in her eyes.
"I wonder," she added softly, "where Jake is and what he is doing now."
Thorne felt that he had been favored with a hint.
"He hasn't sent a line; it wouldn't have been safe. It's kind of wearing, Mavy."
"I'm sorry," sympathized Thorne. "But it's most unlikely that the troopers will get him."
Lucy, without answering this, went out, and when they reached the binder Thorne turned to her with a smile.
"Lucy," he said, "I don't quite understand yet what possessed you a little while ago."
"Did you never feel so worried that it was kind of soothing to do something mad?"
"I'm afraid I have once or twice," Thorne confessed. "On the other hand, my experience wouldn't justify me in advising other people to indulge in outbreaks of the kind. Suppose I'd been--we'll say equal to the occasion?"
Lucy laughed, but there was a snap in her eyes.
"Then," she retorted, "it's a sure thing you would never have tried to be equal to it again. Anyway, I didn't feel anxious about you. You looked real amusing, Mavy."
"Perhaps I did. Still, I don't quite think you need have pointed it out."
They set to work after this, Lucy guiding the team along the edge of the grain and Thorne stooping among the sheaves in the wake of the machine. They were thus engaged, oblivious to everything but their task, when Mrs. Farquhar reined in her team close beside them, and Alison gazed with somewhat confused sensations at the pair.
Lucy had obviously made her dress herself, of the cheapest kind of print, but it was light in hue, as was her big hat, and in addition to falling in with the flood of vivid color through which she moved it flowed about her in becoming lines, and when she pulled up her horses and turned partly toward the wagon her pose was expressive of a curious virile grace. Behind her, straight-cut along its paler upper edge, where the feathery tassels of the oats shone with a silvery luster against the cold blue of the sky, the yellow grain glowed in the warm evening light. The glaring vermilion paint on the binder added to the general effect, and it occurred to Alison that the girl, with her brown face and hands and the signs of a splendid vitality plain upon her, was very much in harmony with her surroundings. The lean figure of the man stooping among the sheaves, lightly clad in blue that had lost its harshness by long exposure to the weather, formed a fit and necessary complement of the picture.