As he stopped here now collecting his thoughts, awakening himself as it were, the sound of chorussinging reached him, faint at first, then growing more distinct. A wagon-load of young people were returning from Leander Crump’s husking, enjoying themselves in the fair moonlight. From the sounds, they must have been about in front of the Fairchild homestead, and they were coming rapidly toward Seth. If he remained in the road, they must pass and recognize him. There was a division line of thorn hedge, long since grown into tall young trees, coming to the road here, and a path beside it leading to a rude stile in the turnpike fence. This path went straight to Mrs. Warren’s house, as Seth had known from boyhood, but he gave this no thought as he stepped over the stile, and moved along in the shadow of the thorns. He walked a score of yards or so, and then stepped closer into the obscurity of the hedge, to wait till the hay-wagon and its caroling crew had passed by on the road outside. He was feeling very cold now, and tired to boot, and said to himself that as soon as the road was clear he would go home and go to bed. To his surprise the singing came to an abrupt halt, just as the wagon approached the end of the hedge. There was a chorus of merry “whoas!” as the horses drew up, and through the clear air Seth could hear a confused babel of voices, all jovially discussing something. One male voice, louder than the rest, called out: “You’d better let me come along with you!” There was some giggling audible, out of which rose a clear, fresh girlish voice which Seth knew: “No, thanks! I can cut across by this path in less than no time. I’m not afraid. The tramps are all abed and asleep by this time, like other honest people.” With more laughter, and a salvo of “good nights!” the wagon started off again, and Annie Fairchild, singing lightly to herself the refrain of the chorus, and holding her face up to catch the full radiance of the moonlight, came walking briskly down the path. Despite her valiant confidence the young woman gave a visible start of alarm as Seth stepped out from the shadows to speak to her. She threw herself forward as if to run, then looked again, stopped, and then gave a little tremulous laugh, and cried: “Why, Seth! is that you. Mercy! How you frightened me!” He could think of nothing better than a feeble parody of her words: “Yes, it is time all honest people were abed and asleep.” He said this with a half-smile, but the girl’s face grew more serious still as she looked at her cousin. She spoke eagerly:-- “Why, what’s the matter with you to-night? Where is your hat? You look as white as a ghost! Oh--have you come from our house? Is it something about grandmother?” “No, it’s nothing about her. I haven’t been nearer your place than this. I only stepped in here so as to avoid the wagon. I didn’t want them to see me like this.”