"I appreciate your silence," she said, and gave him the spell of her wonderful eyes. Stretched there under a walnut she was the picture of enchantment. Almost he wanted to forget the years and what had passed with them since she wrote him that letter that he had received too late.

"I want to ask you one question—have wanted to ask it for years," she pursued. "I want to ask it because, somehow, I am not able to regard you as a flirt." She paused then, and regarded him with her quick eyes, expectantly. But he made no answer, so she went on. "From what I have heard, I think I may be free to discuss this," and she paused again, with her eyes asking that she may.

He nodded.

"Well, of course," she resumed, as if glad that she might tell what was in her mind. "It is not—should not be the woman to ask it, either; but won't you tell me why you didn't answer the last letter I wrote you—tell me why you didn't come on the visit you suggested?"

He caught his breath sharply, whereat, she looked up and into his eyes. His lips had parted, but merely to exclaim, but upon quick thought he had hesitated.

"Yes?"

"I heard you."

"Well?"

"I hardly know how to answer you."

"Please."

"Don't insist on a reply."

"I don't want to, but—"

"I'd rather not tell."

"Well, I don't know as I ought to have asked you. It was perhaps unladylike in me so to do; but honestly I would like to know the truth."

He permitted his eyes to rest on the other bank, and as a pastime he picked up small pebbles and cast them into the river, and watched the ripples they made subside. He thought long and deeply. He had almost forgotten the circumstances that led up to the unfortunate climax. She, by his side, he estimated, was merely curious. Should he confess? Would it be worth while? Of course it would not; but at this moment he felt her hand on his arm.

"We'll go now."

They arose then, and went between the rows of potatoes back to the house. When they arrived there was some excitement, and she was greeted anxiously.

"Papa has returned," said one of the boys, coming to meet them.

"Oh, he has," whereupon she caught his hand and led him hurriedly into the presence of the man who was widely known as Junius N. Grey, the Negro Potato King.

CHAPTER VI

Table of Contents

THE STORY

JUNIUS GREY inquired at length concerning the land whence he had come, of the prospects, of the climate, and at last relieved Baptiste by inquiring as to whether the drought had swept over that section as well as other westerly parts.