“He’s a blamed dude,” he thought to himself again and again; but he could think of nothing to say which would convey this opinion, and yet fit into the conversation. But when Dick had slunk back to his carriage Dave’s feelings burst forth. For a few moments, indeed, the little group (except Annie) talked, in their excitement, all together. “Ain’t he handsome!” Johnny said proudly; he was proud of anything connected with Annie. “He’s real rich, Annie, ain’t he? Ridin’ in hacks?” Mrs. Pugsley demanded. “He’s a blamed dude; that’s what he is,” Dave said fiercely. “I thought he was your feller, Annie,” Mrs. Pugsley declared, panting and fanning herself. “Well, now, he’s none too good to be,” Johnny announced, chuckling. “Father, dear, wouldn’t it be nicer to sit out on the steps, where it’s cooler? I’ll put the tea things away, and then I’ll come, too. Please--_go!_” she ended. Johnny looked at her in surprise, sensitive to every change in her voice. “Why, now--Annie?” he faltered. “I’ll be through with the dishes in a few minutes, father, dear,” she said; and so Johnny led the way to the front door and placed a chair on the hard, black earth at the foot of the steps for Mrs. Pugsley, and told Dave to take off his coat again. “It’s that hot,” Johnny said, “there’s no good wearin’ coats.” “Now that dude’s gone, I suppose there’s no harm being comfortable,” Dave agreed angrily. They sat there in the dusk, Johnny and Mrs. Pugsley talking the visit over. They could hear Annie moving about in the kitchen, washing the dishes. After a while Dave Duggan got up and with painstaking and elaborate efforts not to attract attention went, with creaking, clumsy steps, into the kitchen. Annie stood by the sink, with her back to him. He heard her draw in her breath in a broken sob; and then he saw--he saw that tears were running down her face. “Annie!” he said; “oh, now, Annie, don’t, don’t mind, Annie, dear!” He put out his hands beseechingly, his face red and wincing with feeling. Annie turned her shoulder toward him, and set her teeth. She drew her wrist across her eyes. “It’s that dude’s hurt your feelin’s, Annie--darn him! but never you mind, he ain’t worth”-- “Oh, please go away, Dave,” Annie said; “you don’t know what you are talking about! Please go back to father.” “Annie,” he burst out, “look here: he ain’t worth it. I say, Annie, will you take up with me?” “I really don’t know what you are talking about. Mr. Temple--if you are referring to him--has not hurt my feelings in the least. I--I had something on my mind, and”-- “Oh, Annie,” poor Dave said, “what I’m wanting to know”--He stood there in his shirt-sleeves beside the sink, his voice trembling, one big red hand opening and shutting the hot-water spigot. “I’m just wanting to know if you’ll marry me, Annie. Say, now, will you?” She shrank from him, a sort of horror in her face. “_You?_” “You ain’t mad?” he entreated.