Lyman leaned back with his arms spread out, and laughed. "It would seem that the rich man's coach wheel has raked off a part of my hide, but it hasn't, my boy." He got up and walked about the room; he went to the window. Damp air was stirring and an old map was flapping slowly against the dingy wall. He gazed over the housetops in the direction of the grove where the paper lanterns had hung, but all was dark and rain was fast falling. "It's raining," he said. "I'm glad it held up until after the picnic." "Yes," Warren replied, "for we might have been cheated out of the cigars and the five dollars." "And I might have been robbed of a pleasant few moments." "You are gone," said Warren, yawning. "No, not yet, but I am going." He reached for his hat. "In the rain?" Warren asked. "I'm going to smoke another cigar before I turn in. Stay here tonight; you can have my cot. I'd as soon sleep on the floor." "No, I won't rob you." "Rob me? Your work tonight would make a stone slab a soft place for me to rest." "And my mind might turn a bed, formed of the breast feathers of a goose, into a stone slab. Good night." The hour was late, but a light was burning in old Jasper's house. As Lyman stepped upon the veranda Henry Bostic came out of the sitting room. "Ah, Mr. Lyman, but you are dripping wet." "I hadn't noticed it, but it is raining rather hard. You are not going out in it, are you?" "I have but a short distance to go. I found Miss Annie so entertaining that I didn't know it was so late. I came to invite her to hear me preach the third Sunday of next month, at Mt. Zion, on the Fox Grove road, five miles from town. I should like you to be present." "Yes, as I was present at your first--" "Don't mention that, Mr. Lyman," he said, hoisting his umbrella. "That was not wholly free from a spirit of revenge, and I have prayed for pardon. My mother has called on the McElwins to beseech them to forgive me, and I went to the bank today on the same errand." "Wait a moment," said Lyman, as the young minister moved toward the steps leading to the dooryard. "Did the banker forgive you?" The young man stood with his umbrella under the edge of the roof, and the rain rumbled upon it. "No, sir. He said I had done his family a vital injury. I told him I might have been an instrument in the hands of a higher power, and he sneered at me. I hope you forgive me, Mr. Lyman." "To be frank, I am secretly glad that it happened," Lyman replied. "But not maliciously or even mischievously glad, I hope," said the preacher. "No, I am glad for other reasons, but I cannot explain them." The rain rumbled upon the umbrella and the preacher was silent for a moment. "Mr. McElwin said that if I could induce you to sign the petition he would forgive me. And I told him I would. Will you sign it?" "I cannot, Mr. Bostic." "May I ask why?" "Because I stand as the young woman's protector. She despises Sawyer, and her father was determined that she should be his wife."