"Oh, don't defend him, Nanny," said Babbie, looking reproachfully at Gavin. "I don't see that any minister has a right to denounce women when he is so ignorant of his subject. I will say it, Nanny, and you need not kick me beneath the table." Was not all this intoxicating to the little minister, who had never till now met a girl on equal terms? At twenty-one a man is a musical instrument given to the other sex, but it is not as instruments learned at school, for when She sits down to it she cannot tell what tune she is about to play. That is because she has no notion of what the instrument is capable. Babbie's kind- heartedness, her gaiety, her coquetry, her moments of sadness, had been a witch's fingers, and Gavin was still trembling under their touch. Even in being taken to task by her there was a charm, for every pout of her mouth, every shake of her head, said, "You like me, and therefore you have given me the right to tease you." Men sign these agreements without reading them. But, indeed, man is a stupid animal at the best, and thinks all his life that he did not propose until he blurted out, "I love you." It was later than it should have been when the minister left the mud house, and even then he only put on his hat because Babbie said that she must go. "But not your way," she added. "I go into the wood and vanish. You know, Nanny, I live up a tree." "Dinna say that," said Nanny, anxiously, "or I'll be fleid about the siller." "Don't fear about it. Mr. Dishart will get some of it to-morrow at the Kaims. I would bring it here, but I cannot come so far to- morrow." "Then I'll hae peace to the end o' my days," said the old woman, "and, Babbie, I wish the same to you wi' all my heart." "Ah," Babbie replied, mournfully, "I have read my fortune, Nanny, and there is not much happiness in it."" "I hope that is not true," Gavin said, simply. They were standing at the door, and she was looking toward the hill, perhaps without seeing it. All at once it came to Gavin that this fragile girl might have a history far sadder and more turbulent than his. "Do you really care?" she asked, without looking at him. "Yes," he said stoutly, "I care." "Because you do not know me," she said. "Because I do know you," he answered. Now she did look at him. "I believe," she said, making a discovery, "that you misunderstand me less than those who have known me longer." This was a perilous confidence, for it at once made Gavin say "Babbie." "Ah," she answered, frankly, "I am glad to hear that. I thought you did not really like me, because you never called me by my name." Gavin drew a great breath. "That was not the reason," he said. The reason was now unmistakable. "I was wrong," said the Egyptian, a little alarmed; "you do not understand me at all."