"Oh, he's gone over to Colebyville for his mail, an' won't be home till late--in all this mud. As to what he's like--it ain't easy t' tell what John's like; he's--he's a university feller; most folks say he's a dude, but we like him?" "What university?" Elizabeth asked with a quick indrawn breath; she knew now whom she had met on the road that afternoon. "He comes from Illinois. I guess it's th' State University--I never asked him. His father died an' left him this land an' he's come out here to farm it. Couldn't plow a straight furrow t' save his life when he come a little over a year ago, but he's picked up right smart," Silas added, thereby giving the information the young girl wanted. This young man was to be in this neighbourhood all summer. Still another reason for applying for the Chamberlain school. As Elizabeth helped Liza Ann with her dishwashing after supper, John Hunter came in. The ground had been too soft for them to hear the wagon when he drove up. Silas introduced them promptly and added with a grin: "You've heard of folks that didn't know enough t' come in out of th' rain? Well, that's her!" John Hunter's eyes twinkled an amused recognition, but he did not mention the accident in which Patsie had come to grief. "I am very glad to meet you, Miss Farnshaw; we are both wet weather birds." Seeing Liza Ann reach for a frying pan, he addressed himself to her: "Never mind any supper for me, Mrs. Chamberlain. I knew I'd be late, as I had to go around by Warren's after I got back, and I got an early supper at the new hotel before I left town!" "The extravagance of that!" exclaimed Mrs. Chamberlain, to whom hotel bills were unknown. John Hunter went to the door to clean some extra mud off his boot tops, and to hide a wide and fatuous smile at the thought of tricking Silas out of his accustomed joke. He felt nearer the girl, because she too had been silent regarding the afternoon encounter. He liked the mutuality of it and resolved that it should not be the last touch of that sort between them. While not really intellectual, John Hunter had the polish and tastes of the college man, and here he reflected was a girl who seemed near being on his own level. She looked, he thought, as if she could see such small matters as bespattered clothes. Silas followed him out. "You didn't bed them horses down did you?" he asked. "No. I expect we'd better do it now and have it out of the way." As they entered the dark stable and felt their way along the back of the little alley, behind the stalls, for the pitchforks, the younger man asked indifferently: "Who did you say the young lady was?"