“Agnes Dinon!” exclaimed Margie, in a tone which suggested that a mouse, or at least a snake, was in close proximity. “Do you hear that voice?--do you see that man? Do you know who he is? That is the elegant Mr. Marge.” Miss Dinon manifested surprise, but she quickly whispered,-- “Sh-h-h! Yes, I knew he was here, looking after the company’s interests. He is one of the directors, you know.” “Yes, I know; but see his hat and his clothes,--and his brown hands. This is simply killing! Oh, if I had crayons and paper, or, better still, a camera! The girls at home won’t believe me when I tell them: they’ll think it too utterly preposterous.” “Why should you tell them?” asked Agnes, turning away. “Isn’t it entirely honorable for a man to be caring for his own and fulfilling his trust, especially when so valuable a property as this is demands his attention?” “Yes, yes, you dear old thing; but----” “Sh-h!” whispered Agnes, for just then Marge climbed the slope and appeared a little way in front of them, shouting back at the man,-- “Cut your next sod here: this seems to have thicker grass.” Suddenly he saw the ladies and recognized them. It was too late to run, as he assuredly would have done if warned in time, but he had the presence of mind to shout to his workman,-- “No, it isn’t, either. Get the next from the old place!” “Good-morning, Mr. Marge,” said Miss Dinon, with a frank smile and an outstretched hand. Marge raised his hat, bowed, and replied,-- “The hand of the laboring-man is sometimes best shaken in spirit. I assure you, though, I appreciate the compliment.” “Then don’t deny me the honor,” said Miss Dinon. “It’s a positive pleasure to see a man doing something manly. It is my misfortune that I see men only in the city, you know, and doing nothing.” Her hand was still extended, so Marge took it, again raising his hat. Margie turned away; the situation was so comical to her that she felt she must laugh, and she knew by experience that her laughter was sometimes uncontrollable when fairly started. “Mr. Tramlay says you’ve worked wonders since you’ve been here,” said Miss Dinon, as Marge released her hand; “and, as old Mr. Hayn is his authority, I have no doubt it is so.” “I imagine that I deserve the company’s thanks,” Marge replied, “though I’m astonished at having mastered some portions of the work so quickly. I think I can astonish you, also, by an honest confession: I really wish something of this sort had turned up years ago; I’m a great deal happier at it than I ever was while worrying my wits over stocks in Wall Street. I think the work far more honorable and manly, too. You’re quite at liberty to repeat this to any of our mutual friends in the city: I’m sure ’twill amuse them, and their laughter won’t annoy me a particle.” “They wouldn’t laugh,” said Miss Dinon, “if they could breathe this glorious air awhile, and foresee the gold which this ground will yield, unless appearances are deceitful.”