Young Beech bore still the fish-pole I had seen him take from our shed some hours earlier, but the line twisted round it was very white and dry. He was extremely close to the girl, and kept his head bent down over her as they sauntered along the meadow-path. They seemed not to be talking, but just idly drifting forward like the deep slow water beside them. I had never realized before how tall Jeff was. Though the school-ma'am always seemed to me of an exceeding stature, here was Jeff rounding his shoulders and inclining his neck in order to look under her broad-brimmed Leghorn hat. There could be no imaginable excuse for my not overtaking them. Instinct prompted me to start up a whistling tune as I advanced—a casual and indolently unobtrusive tune—at sound of which Jeff straightened himself, and gave his companion a little more room on the path. In a moment or two he stopped, and looked intently over the bank into the water, as if he hoped it might turn out to be a likely place for fish. And the school-ma'am, too, after a few aimless steps, halted to help him look. “Abner wants you to come right straight home!” was the form in which my message delivered itself when I had come close up to them. They both shifted their gaze from the sluggish stream below to me upon the instant. Then Esther Hagadorn looked away, but Jeff—good, big, honest Jeff, who had been like a fond elder brother to me since I could remember—knitted his brows and regarded me with something like a scowl. “Did pa send you to say that?” he demanded, holding my eye with a glance of such stern inquiry that I could only nod my head in confusion. “An' he knew that you'd find me here, did he?” “He said either at the school-house or around here somewhere,” I admitted, weakly. “An' there ain't nothin' the matter at the farm? He don't want me for nothin' special?” pursued Jeff, still looking me through and through. “He didn't say,” I made hesitating answer, but for the life of me, I could not keep from throwing a tell-tale look in the direction of his companion in the blue gingham dress. A wink could not have told Jeff more. He gave a little bitter laugh, and stared above my head at the willow-plumes for a minute's meditation. Then he tossed his fish-pole over to me and laughed again. “Keep that for yourself, if you want it,” he said, in a voice not quite his own, but robustly enough. “I sha'n't need it any more. Tell pa I ain't a-comin'!” “Oh, Tom!” Esther broke in, anxiously, “would you do that?” He held up his hand with a quiet, masterful gesture, as if she were the pupil and he the teacher, “Tell him,” he went on, the tone falling now strong and true, “tell him and ma that I'm goin' to Tecumseh to-night to enlist. If they're willin' to say good-by, they can let me know there, and I'll manage to slip back for the day. If they ain't willin'—why, they—they needn't send word; that's all.” Esther had come up to him, and held his arm now in hers.