"She's mad with me!" he lamented. "Green grass! She's mad with me, and I don't know no more than the dead what I done. Why, don't you rec'lect, Elder, she was puttyin' round there [Pippin meant "puttering"] while we was talkin', smilin' and--and lookin' pleasant, the way she does--why, you'd said I was welcome, wouldn't you? Sure you would! Why, sir, we was _friends_! There's things I've told that young lady--and she 'peared to understand, too, and to--what I mean--not be opposed to hearin' 'em--and then all of a sudden--I tell you, Elder, I don't know what I'll do if she stays mad with me, honest I don't." Pippin's voice broke, and he brushed his hand across his eyes. "Have you any _i_dea why she's mad with me, Elder?" he asked simply. The chaplain patted his shoulder as he would a child's. "No, Pippin, I have no idea. I don't even know that she is 'mad with you.' She has had a shock, and a great deal of excitement and--and emotion, and I don't think she is quite herself now. You must be patient, Pippin. A young woman's feelings are very sensitive, as you said yourself yesterday. Mary is very much upset, and she probably feels--she is a very sensible girl, and a very intelligent one"--"You bet she's all that!" Pippin murmured--"probably feels that as you are connected with all this excitement and emotion, it is better for her not to see you just now. Start along with your wheel, and Mary and I will follow by rail. Mr. Bailey can meet us at Cyrus Centre--it's a four-mile drive, you say? We'll be there as soon as you, Pippin, or before. Be off with you! And cheer up!" he added with his friendly hand on the broad shoulder that drooped as it had never drooped before since that hour among the buttercups. "Cheer up, Pippin! 'Praise the Lord with gladness,' you know, my son!" "Amen, Elder! 'And come before His presence with a song.' I will, sir! Gimme a little start, and I will. So long, sir!" It was not Pippin's own flashing smile that greeted the chaplain from the gate, as with Nipper on his back, the boy turned into the lane; but still it was a smile, and his chin was up, and his shoulders square once more. Yes, Pippin was all right again. But--the chaplain sank deep and deeper into reverie--what was to become of Pippin eventually? He could not go pirouetting across the stage of life as if it were--Hadley glanced at his brother-in-law, and saw him also deep in thought--a moving picture show. If he had only taken his, the chaplain's, advice in the beginning, and let him find an opening for him in some safe, steady business! As if in answer to his thoughts, John Aymer looked up suddenly. "How would Pet-Lamb fit into the hardware line?" he asked. "About as well as a salmon in a lobster pot, eh? Well, we must fit him in somewhere, Lar. I want Mary to stand by Lucy this winter, you understand!" "Of course. And anyhow, Jack, the boy cannot expect to support a wife by scissor-grinding."