"Because," Lovell hastened to say; "because she can't go across--no, that wasn't right--why--ahem! why does a hen go _across_ the road, Miss Hungerford?" and the next instant he was wallowing in the straw at my feet. My soul was filled with unutterable compassion for him. "Because," I ventured, when Lovell reappeared again, affecting a tone of lively inspiration: "because she can't go around it?" "You--you've heard of it before!" gravely protested Lovell. "I confess," said I, "that I have. It used to be my favorite riddle." "It--it used to be mine, too," said Lovell. "It _used_ to be, Miss Hungerford--ahem! It _used_ to be--You--you couldn't tell what I was thinking of when I--ahem--when I started from home to-night, now, could you, Miss Hungerford?" said Lovell, at length. "I'm sure I couldn't, Mr. Barlow," said I: "but I hope it was something very agreeable." "But it wasn't," said Lovell; "that is, not very, Miss Hungerford; ahem! not very. I was--I was--ahem! I was thinking of it, you know, of--of such a thing as getting married, you know." "I hope," said I, cheerfully, after a pause; "that as you consider the subject longer, it will be a less painful one to you." "I hope so, Miss Hungerford," said Lovell. "Ahem! I hope so, certainly;" but there was little of that sanguine quality expressed in his tones. The great white horse made another plunge forward, and Lovell recovered himself with a desperate effort. "What should you think now, Miss Hungerford," he continued, moistening his parched lips; "if I should do such a thing as to--ahem!--as to speak of such a thing as--ahem!--as something of that sort to you, now, Miss Hungerford? Now, what should you think of such a thing? now, really?" "I should think you were very inconsiderate," I said, "and would probably regret your rashness afterwards." "_I_ think so," said Lovell; "ahem! _I_ think so, Miss Hungerford; _I_ do, certainly." After this it seemed as though a weight had been lifted from Lovell's mind. He kept his seat better. His was not a buoyant spirit, but there was, on this occasion, an air of repressed cheerfulness about him such as I had never before seen him exhibit. I tried to think that it was a joyous mental rebound from the contemplation of those dark riddles which trouble humanity, "Why does the hen go across the road," etc. After a brief pause, Lovell said; "You--you wouldn't mind if I should sing a little now, now would you, Miss Hungerford?" I assured him that I should be very glad to have him do so, and he sang, I remember, all the rest of the way home. At the gate, I thanked him for the ride and its cheerful vocal accompaniment, and Lovell said; "Do you like to hear me sing, now? Do you--do you, really, now, Miss Hungerford?" and turned away with a smile on his face to seek his home by the sea. But Lovell was not long lonely, for, in less than a week, his father and mother returned from their visit at Aunt Marcia's and brought to Lovell a wife.