"You _don’t say_! How did you drop onto that?" gasped Mrs. Waycroft. "Well, I don’t feel at liberty exactly to tell how I got onto it," Ann said, pulling at another piece of twine; "but it will get out before long. Luke has been in love with her ever since she wore short dresses." "Huh, that _is_ a surprise!" said Mrs. Waycroft. "Well, she is fortunate, Ann. He’s a fine young man." XXIV Towards sunset that afternoon, as Ann was returning from her cotton-house, she came upon Virginia in a thicket on the roadside picking up pieces of fallen tree-branches for fire-wood. Ann had approached from the rear, and Virginia was unaware of her nearness. To the old woman’s surprise, the girl’s eyes were red from weeping, and there was a droop of utter despondency on her as she moved about, her apron full of sticks, her glance on the ground. Ann hesitated for a minute, and then stepped across the stunted grass and touched her on the arm. "What’s the matter _now_, child?" she asked. The girl turned suddenly and flushed to the roots of her hair, but she made no response. "What’s gone wrong?" Ann pursued, anxiously. "Don’t tell me your mother has found out about—" "Oh no, it’s not that," Virginia said, wiping her eyes with her disengaged hand. "It’s not that. I’m just miserable, Mrs. Boyd, that’s all—thoroughly miserable. You mustn’t think I’m like this all the time, for I’m not. I’ve been cheerful at home all day—as cheerful as I could be under the circumstances; but, being alone out here for the first time, I got to thinking about my mother, and the sadness of it all was too much for me." "She hain’t worse, is she?" Ann asked.