“It is not a dirty farm! It’s a beautiful farm! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“All right.” Maisie shrugged her shoulders and went on reading. After a short pause Cicely continued:

“The last incubator lot are hatching themselves. Isn’t it wonderful? And Mr. Talbot’s coming here to-day, and afterwards he's going to take me to see the chicks coming out of the eggs. You’ve no idea how interesting it is, Maisie! It’s simply—”

“Is that man coming here to tea?” demanded Maisie.

“Yes, he is. And I do think you might be civil. He’s not at all a bad sort—underneath his extraordinary manners.”

“Then I’m going over to see the Frasers,” said Maisie, disregarding her.

The Frasers were friends of hers, living some three miles away.

“All right, you can,” answered Cicely. “I don't care.”

She waited until Maisie had left the room, and then added: “And I hope Timothy runs away with you.”

TALBOT tramped in at a few minutes past four. “Hullo!” said Cicely. “Sit down and I’ll make the tea.”

Talbot lowered himself into a chair. It did not occur to him that he might help his hostess. It did occur to Cicely, and she sighed. With all his faults, Richard—. She set the kettle down smartly, and came to the tea-table.

Talbot seemed rather thoughtful. Tea over, she lit a cigarette and saw that he was frowning.

“I don’t like to see a girl smoking,” he said heavily.

“Really?”

“I’d not allow my wife to smoke.”

“Really?” said Cicely again. “But I am not your wife.”

He looked full into her eyes in that bold, dogged way that had first intrigued her.

“Seems to me, my girl, we’d best come to an understanding,” he said.

Indignation robbed Cicely of words. Fred Talbot to address her as “my girl”! With an effort, she controlled herself.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said icily. “Will you have a cigarette?”

“No.” He brushed it aside. “Reckon you know all right. I want you to marry me.”

“What?” Cicely gasped. “To—” Again, she controlled herself. “Thanks very much,” she said lightly, “I’m afraid not. I’m sorry you should think—think—”

“Reckon I think what I’m meant to. I don’t pretend to understand you town-girls, but I know what I want, and I get what I want.”

Cicely drew herself up.

“Mr. Talbot, you forget yourself. Please don’t say any more! I had no idea you were—you had—you wanted to marry me, or I shouldn’t have—well, anyhow, don’t let’s talk about it. It’s a pity to spoil a very pleasant friendship, isn’t it?”

He smiled rather grimly.

“Suppose you cut out the fine talk, my girl, and come to grips? I don’t know why you should pretend you’d no idea I wanted to marry you. You’ve been in and out of my place for weeks. I’m not a fool, my girl, and I know what to make of that.”

“Don’t call me that!” exploded Cicely. “I’m not your girl, and I won’t have such an—such an impertinence! I came to your farm because I was interested! We were just friends, as you very well know! I’ve never given you the right to talk to me like this!”