“‘The rose is red, The violet blue, Tansy is horrid, And so are you.’” And then they both laughed. By this time a leisurely landlord in his shirtsleeves had made his appearance, and with a hand on each hip, stood calmly looking them over. “I would like my horse fed, and dinner for myself and this lady.” Ben’s tone had its business accent as he jumped down and helped Posey from the high seat to the ground. “All right,” and stepping forward the landlord took the lines. “But seems to me you’re rather a young couple. Wedding trip, I s’pose?” “Tin wedding!” and Ben gave a jerk of his thumb towards the cart. What a sumptuous banquet to Posey seemed that dinner. Surely fried chicken was never before so good, and baked potatoes and squash so toothsome, or peaches and cream so delicious; even the decidedly slabby cake she ate with a relish. She had recovered from her fatigue, her eyes shone, her cheeks were flushed with pleasant excitement; she was ready to laugh at all of Ben’s nonsense, and the pleasantries of the good-natured landlord who served them. While Ben, delighted at her happy mood, as he looked at her and listened to her merry laugh, could hardly realize that this was the same woeful little figure he had met so few hours before. They had not been long on the road again when Ben began to cast doubtful glances at a dark cloud swiftly rising in the west. “I’m afraid we’re going to have a shower,” he said at last. And then after a few moments, “I know we are. I see the rain coming over those woods now. It’s a mile or more away, but it’s working this way fast.” “What will you do?” Posey questioned anxiously. “I must try and get in somewhere. I’m pretty well fixed for storms, with a big umbrella and oilcloth apron. I’ve a cover for the load, too, but the trouble is I’ve got so many rags on now it won’t go over, so I must find some place to drive in. Hurry up, Billy,” and he shook the lines over the stout bay’s back. “I don’t know this road, either. I always go the one next south; it has more houses, but the landlord said there was a bridge down on it an’ I would have to come this way.” “It’s beginning to sprinkle,” and Posey held out her hand. “I feel the drops. But there’s a house just ahead; perhaps you can find a place there.” As they neared the white farmhouse they saw that a long woodhouse stretched from one side, its old-fashioned arched opening toward the road. “Can I drive under your shed?” Ben shouted to an old lady he saw just inside. And then as the first gust of the swift-coming storm began to patter thick about them, hardly waiting for a reply, he turned Billy at a swinging trot up the drive, and in another moment they were safe under shelter, while a whitely driving sheet of rain blotted out all the outer world.