“Well, I don't know as I think she'd actually kill herself, as Martha did, but if this goes on her mind certainly will give way. It's not natural--it's too great a strain for one human brain to stand. She didn't sleep a wink last night I know that, for I woke up several times and heard her moving about and sighing.” “Poor mamma!” Cynthia said, regretfully, to herself, as her grandmother moved slowly from the room. “And I spoke disrespectfully to her just now. Besides, perhaps I have given her cause to worry, from her stand-point. God forgive me, I really _did_ go out to meet him that way, and if she thinks it would be so bad, what must he think? Is it possible for him to class me with--to think of me as--as he does of--Oh!” and with a hot flush burning her face, Cynthia rose hastily and put her work away. XIV AT one o'clock the following Sunday afternoon Nelson Floyd drove up to Porter's gate in his new buggy, behind his spirited Kentucky thorough-bred. Nathan Porter in his stockinged feet, for the day was warm, stood on the porch, and as Floyd reined in, he walked down the steps and out to the gate, leaning over it lazily, his slow, pleased glance critically sweeping the horse from head to foot. “You've got you a dandy at last,” was his observation. “I used to be some'n' of a judge. Them's the slimmest legs fer sech a good stout body I ever seed. He totes his head high without a check-rein, too, an' that's purty. I reckon you come after Cynthia. She'll be out here in a minute. She knows you've come; she kin see the road from the window o' her room. An' I never knowed a woman that could keep from peepin' out.” “Oh, I'm in no hurry at all,” Floyd assured him. “It's only ten miles, and we can easily make it by the three o'clock service.” “Oh, well, I reckon it don't make no odds to you whether you hold _yore_ meetin' in that hug-me-tight or under the arbor. I know my choice 'ud 'a' been jest one way when I was on the turf. Camp-meetin's an' bush-arbor revivals used to be our hay-time. Us boys an' gals used to have a great way o' settin' in our buggies, jest outside, whar we could chat all we wanted to, jine in the tunes, an' at the same time git credit fer properly observin' the day.” “That's about the way the young people look at it now,” Floyd said, with a smile.