The Bowdens were well known to Bartley, and he bade them "good-morning" in amiable fashion. He shook hands with Sophia and Rhoda, and nodded to Elias and David. None of the family showed particular pleasure in the young man’s company, but this did not trouble him. Their way was his for a while, and therefore he walked beside David and Rhoda and prattled cheerfully now to one, now to the other. "How those boys grow!" he said. "A brave couple and so like as a pair of tabby kittens. They’ll go taller than you, David. You can see it by their long feet." "Very like they will," said David. The other’s ruling instinct was to please. He addressed Rhoda. In common with most young men he admired her exceedingly; but the emotion was not returned. Rhoda seldom smiled upon men; yet, on the other hand, she never scowled at them. Her attitude was one of high indifference, and none saw much more than that; yet much more existed, and Rhoda’s aloof posture, instead of concealing normal maiden interest in the opposite sex, as Bartley and other subtle students suspected, in reality hid a vague general aversion from it. "If I may make bold to say so, Miss Rhoda, those feathers in your beautiful hat beat anything I’ve ever seen," declared Mr. Crocker. "’Tis a foreign bird what used to be in a case," answered she. "The mould was getting over it, so I thought I’d use its wings for my hat afore they went to pieces." "A very witty idea. And what might the bird be?" "Couldn’t tell you." "I wonder, now, supposing I was to shoot a kingfisher, if you’d like him to put in your hat when this here bird be done for?" "No, thank you." "If she wants a kingfisher, I can get her one," said David. Bartley tried again. "I hear that yellow-bearded chap, the leat man, Simon Snell, be taking up with your Dorcas. That’s great news, I do declare, if ’tis true." A very faint tinge of colour touched Rhoda’s cheeks. "It isn’t," she said. "Ah, well--can’t say I’m sorry. He’s rather a dull dog--good as gold, but as tasteless as an egg without salt." "Simon Snell can stand to work--that’s something," said David, in his uncompromising way. But Mr. Crocker ignored the allusion. He looked at and talked to Rhoda. The pleasure of seeing her beautiful face and of watching that little wave of rose-colour wax and wane in her cheeks, was worth her brother’s snub. He had often been at the greatest difficulty to abstain from compliments to Rhoda; but there was that in her bearing and consistent reserve that frightened him and all others from personality. Even to praise her hat had required courage.