At first it didn't seem to be. They talked about the weather, the soil, the team. Laddie scooped a handful of black earth, and holding it out, told Mr. Pryor all about how good it was, and why, and he seemed interested. Then they talked about everything; until if he had been Jacob Hood, he would have gone away. But just at the time when I expected him to start, he looked at Laddie straight and hard. "I missed you Sabbath evening," he said. Then I looked at him. He had changed, some way. He seemed more human, more like our folks, less cold and stern. "I sincerely hope it was unanimous," said Laddie. Mr. Pryor had to laugh. "It was a majority, at any rate." Laddie stared dazed. You see that was kind of a joke. An easy one, because I caught it; but we were not accustomed to expecting a jest from Mr. Pryor. Not one of us dreamed there was a joke between his hat crown and his boot soles. Then Laddie laughed; but he sobered quickly. "I'm mighty sorry if Mrs. Pryor missed me," he said. "I thought of her. I have grown to be her devoted slave, and I hoped she liked me." "You put it mildly," said Mr. Pryor. "Since you didn't come when she expected you, we've had the worst time with her that we have had since we reached this da--ah--er--um--this country." "Could you make any suggestion?" asked Laddie. "I could! I would suggest that you act like the sensible fellow I know you to be, and come as usual, at your accustomed times." "But I'm forbidden, man!" cried Laddie. Ugh! Such awful things as Mr. Pryor said. "Forbidden!" he cried. "Is a man's roof his own, or is it not? While I live, I propose to be the head of my family. I invite you! I ask you! Mrs. Pryor and I want you! What more is necessary?" "TWO things," said Laddie, just as serenely. "That Miss Pryor wants me, and that I want to come." "D'ye mean to tell me that you DON'T want to come, eh? After the fight you put up to force your way in!" Laddie studied the sky, a whimsy smile on his lips. "Now wasn't that a good fight?" he inquired. "I'm mighty proud of it! But not now, or ever, do I wish to enter your house again, if Miss Pryor doesn't want, and welcome me." Then he went over, took Mr. Pryor's horse by the head, and began working with its bridle. It didn't set right some way, and Mr. Pryor had jerked, spurred, and mauled, until there was a big space tramped to mortar. Laddie slid his fingers beneath the leather, eased it a little, and ran his hands over the fretful creature's head. It just stopped, stood still, pushed its nose under his arm, and pressed against his side. Mr. Pryor arose in one stirrup, swung around and alighted. He looped an arm through the bridle rein, and with both hands gripped his whipstock. "How the devil do you do it?" he asked, as if he were provoked. "First, the bridle was uncomfortable; next, you surely know, Mr. Pryor, that a man can transfer his mental state to his mount." Laddie pointed to the churned up earth.