And also I have this Prudence. The thought made her exquisitely happy. Here they were regaled with another plentiful meal by the hospitable carpenter, who personally superintended the repast. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. Stanley determined to improve the occasion. Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know. "What?—help take care of him? Why, you can't do that, Miss Enschede!" was the protest. She took to listening through closed doors. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. Finally she fell into reflection. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. “I don’t know why.
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