“But if he comes and stands outside our house every night and listens--as of course he will,” said Theron, with mock gravity, “it is only a question of time when he must reach that conclusion for himself. Our only chance, however, is that there are some sixteen hundred other houses for him to watch, so that he may not get around to us for quite a spell. Why, seriously, Alice, what on earth do you suppose Father Forbes knows or cares about our poor little affairs, or those of any other Protestant household in this whole village? He has his work to do, just as I have mine--only his is ten times as exacting in everything except sermons--and you may be sure he is only too glad when it is over each day, without bothering about things that are none of his business.” “All the same I'm afraid of them,” said Alice, as if argument were exhausted. CHAPTER VI On the following morning young Mr. Ware anticipated events by inscribing in his diary for the day, immediately after breakfast, these remarks: “Arranged about piano. Began work upon book.” The date indeed deserved to be distinguished from its fellows. Theron was so conscious of its importance that he not only prophesied in the little morocco-bound diary which Alice had given him for Christmas, but returned after he had got out upon the front steps of the parsonage to have his hat brushed afresh by her. “Wonders will never cease,” she said jocosely. “With you getting particular about your clothes, there isn't anything in this wide world that can't happen now!” “One doesn't go out to bring home a piano every day,” he made answer. “Besides, I want to make such an impression upon the man that he will deal gently with that first cash payment down. Do you know,” he added, watching her turn the felt brim under the wisp-broom's strokes, “I'm thinking some of getting me a regular silk stove-pipe hat.” “Why don't you, then?” she rejoined, but without any ring of glad acquiescence in her tone. He fancied that her face lengthened a little, and he instantly ascribed it to recollections of the way in which the roses had been bullied out of her own headgear. “You are quite sure, now, pet,” he made haste to change the subject, “that the hired girl can wait just as well as not until fall?” “Oh, MY, yes!” Alice replied, putting the hat on his head, and smoothing back his hair behind his ears. “She'd only be in the way now. You see, with hot weather coming on, there won't be much cooking. We'll take all our meals out here, and that saves so much work that really what remains is hardly more than taking care of a bird-cage. And, besides, not having her will almost half pay for the piano.” “But when cold weather comes, you're sure you'll consent?” he urged. “Like a shot!” she assured him, and, after a happy little caress, he started out again on his momentous mission.