"You are a little rogue--but I like you," said John. Barefoot started so that the cow winced and almost over-turned the milk-pail. "And you shall have a good present, too," added John; and he let a dollar that he already had in his hand, slip back into his pocket. "I'll tell you something more," Barefoot resumed, moving on to another cow; "the sexton is an enemy of my master's--I want you to know that in case he tries to get hold of you." "Yes, yes, it's evidently worth while to talk with you. But I notice that you have a swollen face; there's no point in your tying your head up, if you continue to go about barefoot like that." "I am used to it," replied Barefoot, "but I will follow your advice. Thank you." Footsteps were heard approaching. "We will talk together again," said the young man, and then he went away. "I thank you, swollen cheek," said Barefoot to herself, stroking her disfigured face; "you have done me a good turn. Through you I can talk to him as if I were not here; I can speak behind a mask, like a clown on Shrove Tuesday. Hurrah--that is merry!" It was wonderful how this inward cheerfulness almost counteracted her bodily fever. She felt merely tired--indescribably tired; and she was half-pleased and half-sorry when she saw the foreman greasing the wheels of the Bernese chaise-wagon, and heard that her master was going to ride out with the stranger immediately. She hurried into the kitchen, and there she overheard the farmer saying to John in the parlor: "If you care to take a ride, John, that would be fine. Then, Rose, you can sit with me in the Bernese chaise, and you, John, can ride alongside of us." "But your wife is going too, isn't she?" inquired John, after a pause. "I have a child to nurse, and cannot go away," said the farmer's wife. "And I don't like to be driving about the country on a working-day," said Rose. "Oh nonsense! When a cousin comes, you may take a holiday," urged the farmer; for he wanted Rose to go with him at once to Farmer Furche's, that the latter might entertain no hopes for his own daughter. Moreover he was aware that a little excursion of this kind does more to bring people together than a week's visit in the house. John was silent; and the farmer in his urgency nudged him, and said in a half-whisper: "Do you speak to her; maybe she will be more apt to do as you say, and will go with us." "I think," said John aloud, "that your sister is quite right in preferring not to be driving about the country in the middle of the week. I'll harness my white horse with yours, and then we can see how they pull together. And we shall be back by supper-time, if not before." Barefoot, who heard all this, bit her lips to keep from laughing. "You see," she thought to herself, "you have not even got him by the halter yet, much less by the bridle. He won't let himself be driven about the country like a betrothed man, and then not be able to get back."