He was a very fascinating person,--purely as a character study, of course, nothing more. Since, however, she was indulging in speculations concerning him, it would be amusing to know what he thought of her; for he did think of her, that was obvious. What motive prompted him to do it? Perhaps he admired her, thought her pretty. If he did, why didn't he make some further effort to talk with her? Usually men were only too eager to improve the acquaintance of girls they liked. It surely could do Mr. Martin Howe no harm to call a good morning to her over the wall, as his sisters did, even if he did deplore the existence of the Websters. Then the tenor of Lucy's arguments shifted. Probably Martin neither admired nor liked her. Doubtless, along with her aunt and all that pertained to the hated blood, he despised her and simply watched her in disgust. But if so, why did he bother to send flowers to her? Lucy shook her head. She was back at the point from which she had started and was no nearer a solution of Martin Howe and his baffling mental outlook. What did it matter anyway? What he thought or felt was no concern of hers, and she was silly to burden her mind with speculations that really interested her so little. By this time Tony, who had lapsed into a silence as unbroken as her own, drew up at the smooth stone flagging before Elias Barnes's store and, leaping out over the wheel, helped his companion to dismount from the wagon and unload the farm produce they had brought with them for sale. "I'll get home somehow, Tony," the girl said to him, as he prepared to drive off. "You needn't come for me." "All right, Miss Lucy, only I do hope you won't have to foot it back in this heat." "I shan't mind." "It's going to be a terrible day," insisted the lad. "Them buzzin' locusts is enough to prove that. They're good as a thermometer." Lucy laughed. "Don't worry about me," she remarked kindly. "Just as soon as I finish my errands I shall start home." "You'd be wise to." As the mare scuffed off down the road, amid a cloud of dust, Lucy entered the store. A stuffy odor of coffee, molasses, and calico greeted her; so, too, did Elias Barnes, who came forward from behind the counter, extending his damp and sticky palm and showing every tooth that an expansive smile permitted. "So it's you, Miss Lucy," he observed with pleasure. "I was expecting to see your aunt. She was here the other day." "Yes, she drove to town last Friday." "Came on an interestin' errand, too," chirped Elias. "Leastwise, I 'magine 'twas interestin' to you." He grinned slyly. "Why?" "Why?" repeated the man, taken aback. "Because--well, ain't such things always interestin'?" "What things?" Elias stared, uncertain as to how to proceed. Was it possible the girl was ignorant of her aunt's mission? "Mebbe you didn't know Miss Webster's errand in town," he began eagerly. "I know she went to see Mr. Benton and get her will made, if that is what you mean."