“As you might have said you would take a sail with him!” exclaimed the captain with angry fondness in his tone; but the fondness died away as his eyes turned from the fair face of his daughter to the flushed and anxious one of her suitor, while he said,-- “You may see for yourself, Wrestling Brewster, that this child knows not the meaning of marriage love. She is no fonder of you than of--say Betty Alden, or mayhap her pet cat”-- “Nay, nay, father, I must not let that go unsaid! Not love Ras better than I do Moppet! Oh, but I do!” “Lora, if you will stay here, do not speak again until I speak to you,” commanded the father sternly. “I would not be harsh upon you, young sir, for you are son of mine honored friend, Elder Brewster, and I believe a worthy son, but you did amiss, yes, shrewdly amiss, in speaking to my daughter before you did to me.” Wrestling’s lips opened and closed again. He was about to say that Lora’s mother knew of his suit, but in the captain’s mood, that plea might only have brought down wrath upon his wife’s head. “I have not found it fitting to tell all my affairs to all my neighbors,” pursued Standish haughtily. “But I have mine own intent with regard to my daughter, and that intent is not to marry her in this colony. Let that be answer enough for you, Master Wrestling, and if you like, you may advertise any other aspiring youth that designs to honor my daughter with an offer that it is but needless mortification, for my answer will be to all as it is to you,--nay, nay, nay!” And with the last word Myles placed his daughter’s hand under his arm and led her down the hill, leaving Wrestling to cast himself prone upon the sunset seat, his face hidden upon the back of it, and his eyes smarting with the tears his manhood refused to allow to flow. Almost at home, Standish, looking with anxious love into the lily face at his shoulder, said,-- “Poppet, you’re not over-sorry, are you? Why don’t you speak to me?” “You bade me not speak until you spoke to me, father dear. Nay, but I am sorry, heartily sorry, you should have chided Ras so hardly. Poor lad! He was fit to cry when we left him.” “But you do not really care for him, dear child? You are not set upon becoming his--his wife?” “Nay, father, I do not care to be any man’s wife. I would far fainer stay at home with you and mother, but Ras seemed so keen upon the matter and declared I loved him not, that to make him content I said yes; for indeed I do love him, father, more than I love any man after you and the boys.” “Ha, ha! My little lass, there’ll come a day when the boys, and haply your poor old dad as well, will fly down the wind like thistledown before the love that still lieth sound asleep in my maid’s pure heart.” “Nay, father, not asleep, but too dear and too holy to be spoken of,” murmured Lora, a soft flush upon her cheek, a tender light in her eyes as she raised them to her father’s face.