"Will you endure my presence long enough for me to say something?" he asked with unabated gravity. "Why--certainly--" Ann's brows were still raised. "I want to apologize humbly, for the way in which I repaid your kindness the other day. I behaved abominably." Ann paused an instant for a choice of words. "I reckon I was too--pleasant to a stranger--an' you behaved the way that's natural to you. I haven't thought much about it, so it doesn't matter at all." "I guess you're right about my being an ill-mannered brute--it's about time I reformed," Baird returned with perfect sincerity. "I'm very sorry I did what I did.... You see, Miss Ann, you're very sweet and pretty, the prettiest girl I've ever seen, I think, and I clean forgot myself--was just abominably natural, as you say." Baird would not have been Baird had he not added this codicil to his apology and signed it by the look he gave Ann, an appreciative study of the water-lily hat and the flower-like face it framed. Her red coat became her wonderfully, made her clear skin still more white, intensified the gray in her hazel eyes, deepened the black in her hair. She was a study in contrasts, and really very beautiful. And it struck Baird that she looked much more mature. There were shadows beneath her eyes, and her mouth looked firmer, like that of a girl grown rather suddenly into womanhood. Ann increased the impression by the way in which she disposed of his speech. She shrugged slightly, shelving both his apology and his admiration with utter indifference. "I am waiting for my father--I reckon he must have missed the last train. Do you know what time it is?" Baird looked at his watch. "The next train will be along in ten minutes." "As soon as that? I'm glad.... I don't like to go any nearer the station, for we don't know yet whether this horse is train-broke." Baird repeated his stock phrase. "You ought to have an automobile--it wouldn't take fright." Ann smiled involuntarily at the thought of a Penniman's investing in an automobile, and also at Baird's business alertness; she had heard much of Baird from Garvin. "You ought to talk to father," she said. When she smiled she looked more like the mischievous child Baird had seen playing in the barn; her eyelids drooped and the corners of her mouth lifted. "I will," Baird returned promptly. "I'll wait here and meet him, if you don't mind." Ann decided to offer no objection. She had brought it on herself, but she felt quite capable of enduring his presence with equanimity. And if her father treated him with scant courtesy, so much the better. She settled back in the buggy, and Baird also chose a more negligent attitude. He sat sidewise and surveyed Ann. She was certainly worth looking at as she sat there, relaxed and with eyes down, an air of self-absorption that was tantalizing. Apparently, she was quite indifferent whether there was any conversation or not.