“Oh, Rilla was never hard on _me_. She is quite well, thank you. You’re coming up to the house to make us a call and take tea, aren’t you?” “I thought I would.” Infant looked anxiously at the westering sun. She hoped Rilla would have the cold soap cut into cakes and boxed, and herself bathed, clothed, and in her right mind, before the Honorable Truman Condit rode up to their door. “I want to have a talk with you first, though,” he added. “And my way is to go right to the point. Why did you never marry?” “Come to that,” retorted Infant, a sparkle breaking through her face, “why did _you marry_?” “In the first place, because you wouldn’t have me, and in the second place, because I found a very good wife where I went. I’ve been a widower now several years, and the boys are settled. I’m loose from business for almost the first time in my life, and back here to look at the old neighborhood before spending some years abroad. Your never marrying has revived certain things. Maybe you’ve forgotten.” Among her other thoughts, Infant was conscious of recollecting how often she had wished to go abroad if only some happy friend could go along as a cushion betwixt Rilla and her. She unfastened with a furtive hand the rose rope wound about her, but, unwilling to let so many precious roses go, gathered it into loops on her arm. “Did you ever know,” pursued the Honorable Truman, “that Rilla told me you were going to marry one of the Pierson boys?” “No!” Infant cried out so suddenly that the horse started. “She did,” said the Honorable Truman. “Why,” stammered Infant, “how could you believe it?” “I was a hot-headed boy with more pride than sense. I wouldn’t say anything to you about it.” “I remember your quarreling with the Piersons.” “Weren’t you engaged to one of them?” “No; which one?” “Abner.” “I never was engaged to anybody except you,” she retorted, burning hotly in the face, “and I did not admire that experience when you dropped me and went off. And I don’t yet, though you do lay the blame on poor Rilla.” Plenty of time had Rilla for all the domestic countermarching she wished to perform before that conference by the fence ended. Unusually stirring were her tactics too, for all the Robbs were haled up from the tenant-house--Mrs. Robb to cook a supper, and the young Robbs not actually farming to run on errands. It was six o’clock when Enos came riding his plough-horses to the great barn. He had turned off early on purpose to intercept Miss Infant and find out what changes were to be made. Infant hastened up the orchard, while the Honorable Truman hastened to the same destination by the road. She saw him leading his horse up the avenue, and felt impatient at Enos Robb’s interruption. “Sudden doin’s up to the house,” said Enos, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “’Pears like Miss Rill’s made up her mind about Brother Sanderson at last.” “Is Brother Sanderson at the house?” inquired Infant.