"But," Nanny's voice was colorless and almost dreary, even though a wicked little gleam shot into her eyes, "what in the world shall I call you? I can't call you--_John_. And 'parson' always did seem to me rather coarse and disrespectful." He had stopped when she did and now was looking straight down into her eyes. Before the hurt and surprise and bewilderment in his face the wicked little gleam retreated and a deep pink began to flush Nanny's cheeks. The suspicion crossed her mind that this tall young man from India with the unconquered eyes and the directness of a child might be a rather difficult person to deal with. He just stood there and looked at her and said never a word. Then he quietly turned and walked on up the road with her. For the first time in her life Nanny felt queer in the company of a man, queer and puzzled and almost uncomfortable. She was not a flirt and her remark was commonplace and trivial. Yet this new chap was taking it seriously and making her feel insincere and trifling. She told herself that she was not going to like him and kept her eyes studiously on the road and wayside flowers. They mounted the front steps in silence but before he opened the door to let her pass in he paused and waited for her to raise her eyes to his. She did it much against her will. He spoke then as if they two were all alone in the world together. "It is true that you have not known me long. But I have known you for some time. I saw you leave Green Valley one summer night last year and I came from the West two months before I should have just to see if you got safely back at lilac time." At that Nanny's eyes lost all their careful pride and he saw them lovely with surprise. So he explained. "I was standing on the back platform of the Los Angeles Limited the night you went East with your father." Then a smile that the Lord gives only now and then, to a man that He is sure He can trust, flitted over the tall boy's face as he added: "And the very first evening I came back to Green Valley I held you in my arms--rescued you." He laughed boyishly, plaguing her. But she stood motionless with amazement,--too angry to say a word. When that smile came her anger faded. Through her heart there flashed the mad conviction, through her mind the certain knowledge, that for her in the time to come the height of bliss would be to cry in this strange man's arms. Then she recollected herself and flamed with shame so bitter that her lower lip quivered and she hoped he would ask her again to call him John so that she could make him pay for her momentary madness. But he never asked again. It seemed he was not that kind of a man. CHAPTER VI GOSSIP