"I declare I don't know what you mean," John asserted, "but if you are in earnest--about the party, I mean--why, you can count me in. I've never been a party man--I wouldn't know what to do or say--but if you will go with me, I'll be ready long before you are, I'll bet you. I'll hire a horse and buggy at the livery-stable, and--" "Oh no, I seldom ride," Tilly protested. "It is only about a mile and we can walk that far in pretty weather like this. They all live close about except Joel Eperson. He always drives in and brings his sister, Martha Jane." "Oh, so _he's_ going--_that feller_ is going!" John exclaimed in a crestfallen tone. "I see--I see--_he's_ going." "Yes. He is Sally's first cousin." The uncouth mason sat silent. He folded his ponderous hands and scowled as he did when displeased with the work of a bungling assistant. Tilly was covertly and studiously regarding his profile. "Why do you say it like that?" she inquired. "Is there anything strange about Joel going to a party?" "Strange? Not if he knows you are to be there. Does he?" "I suppose he _does_ think I may be there, but what of it--what of it?" John turned and stared toward the house. It was as if he were trying to keep her from seeing the fierce expression he knew had clutched his face. Tilly leaned closer to him. Her shoulder touched his. She sat waiting for him to turn his head toward her again. Presently he looked at her, his honest eyes holding a famished expression. "What is there strange about Joel going?" she asked, softly and all but propitiatingly. "Nothing strange about it--just the reverse," he sighed. "I've heard that he has been loving you ever since he was a little boy, and that he comes to see you every chance he gets. I've heard that your father doesn't like him. I see--his cousin has got this party up so you and he can--" Tilly sprang to her feet. John kept his seat, unaware that even rural courtesy demanded that he rise when she did. But Tilly was no stickler for conventions. She was a working-girl; he was a laborer, and there was something to be fathomed in the man before her which lurked deep within him. She was angry, or perhaps only impatient, but the mood passed as if melting into the moonlight which laved her dainty form like some supernal fluid. "What you said is not kind or just," she objected, sweetly. "You intimate that I'd meet Joel somewhere against my father's wishes. I would not do so. I would not disobey my father or do anything on the sly that he would oppose."