“Yes, but I left them out when I wanted to feel good. I took a lot of comfort in that letter, and the picture, too, though it was a kind of comic, but I could supply what it hadn’t and it brought you before me and did me good. Now, you see I’ve got back and the little girl has grown up some, but she’s got funny notions, romantic ones. I’m perfectly willin’ she should have ’em, if it amuses her, and if she wants to take that way for me to show her how much I think of her I’ve no objections. She can talk to me any way she likes, too, so long as she doesn’t expect me to answer back in the same lingo. I’ll go hunt Steve and bring him back if he’s above ground, if she will do as she says, give me her hand; only I want her heart with it.” Alison sat silent, still gazing at Chico’s ears. The effect of Neal’s speech was such as surprised her. She trembled violently; her heart beat fast; she could not speak; she wanted to cry; she wished she could run away and hide; she dared not look at her companion. They rode along in silence, Neal, once in a while stealing a glance at her. At last he said gently: “Have I skeered you, little girl?” “I--I don’t know,” said Alison helplessly, after a minute. “I think--I’m going to cry.” And she put her head down on Chico to hide her feelings. Neal at once stopped his horse, dismounted and lifted the girl from her saddle. “That isn’t comfortable,” he said. “If you want to cry, why cry ahead, but do it right.” And she wept softly on his shoulder for a moment. But presently she dashed the tears from her eyes and looked up with a smile. “Did you ever know such a silly thing?” she said. “What is there to cry about?” “I’m sure I don’t know. Ask me something easy, but if you wanted to cry I wasn’t going to object.” “Oh, Neal, Neal,” said the girl, “you have bewildered me. I don’t know where I stand.” “Right here by me, where I hope your place will be while we both live,” he said with an undercurrent of seriousness in his voice. “You see I’ve never thought of you in that way.” “It isn’t too late to begin.” “No,” she agreed faintly. “You don’t mind my asking you one question, do you? You will answer me truly?” “Yes, if I can.” “Do you care for any other man? They told me Blythe Van Dorn has been trying mighty hard to wear down the road between his house and yours.” “Blythe is a nice boy, but I never, never thought of him in that way.” “And there’s no one else?” “No one, except----” “Except. Who is it?” He grasped her hands so closely as to make her draw in a little quick breath. “Except Sir Artegall,” she said laughing. “I am the Lady Florimell and he is my knight.” “Oh, if he is only one of those dream fellows I don’t mind him. I shall get him out of the way, and besides you have taken me for your knight.” “If you are to be my knight you should call me Lady Florimell.”