In dumb, almost stupid alarm John sat staring up at her. He quaked under the sudden realization that he had offended her, and yet he had never apologized to any one in his life. The fine sense of that sort of restitution belonged to social paths John Trott had never traversed. "Excuse me," he might have said, as he had said at the gate, but somehow under her bent gaze he found himself unable to utter a word. It may have been the sheer blank look in his eyes, or the helpless twitching of his lips, that decided her, for she suddenly sat down by him again and leaned forward till their eyes met. "You did not mean to say that I'd do anything underhand, I'm sure," she faltered. "I'm sure of it _now_." "Oh no," he slowly shook his head and seemed to swallow an emotional contraction in his throat. "I didn't mean any harm, but--but he _will_ be there, you say? He'll be there?" "Yes, yes, of course," Tilly responded. "I suppose he will bring Martha Jane. He usually does. But what of that?" "He'll want to talk to you, I suppose?" John went on, his nether lip hanging limp, his gaze steady. "Why, yes--that is, maybe he will. Sometimes couples walk about between the games and dances. I don't dance. My father and mother oppose it, and our church does not sanction it; but you dance, don't you?" "No, I've never even been to a dance. I hardly know what they are like. The young folks at Ridgeville have them often at their club and at the hotels and in their homes, but the boys are a lot of dudes that have nothing else to do, and I hate them. I've always had to work for a living and most of them are well off and look down on poor folks. People here treat a fellow like me different somehow." "It seems very strange that you don't dance," Tilly mused aloud, "especially when you don't belong to the church. How does it happen that you never joined?" He shrugged and sniffed with uncurbed contempt, unaware of the fact that what he was saying was an unheard-of thing in Tilly's circle. "I don't believe in them," he jerked out. "They are a bunch of close-fisted, grafting hypocrites. Most of them haven't the brains of a gnat. I've helped build meeting-houses, run against the leaders, and know their private lives. They say they believe there is a God-- I don't!" Tilly sighed unresentfully. "You will see it differently some day," she said. "Will you do me a favor?" "Will I? Try me," he laughed, and he sat eagerly waiting for her to continue.