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"Hello, Nina! How you vass, ain’t it? How much cream already you got this morning? Did you hear the news, not?"

"No, vot hass happened?"

"Everything. Frank Mcvey’s horse stepped through the bridge and broke his leg, and he’s going to sue the county–mean Frank is, not the horse. "

"Iss dot so?"

"Sure! and Bill Hetner had a fight, and Julia Dooriliager’s got home. "

"Vot wass Bill fightding apoudt?"

"Oh, drunk–fighting for exercise. Hain’t got a fresh pie cut?"

Her face lighted up, and she turned so suddenly to go that her bare leg showed below her dress. Her unstockinged feet were thrust into coarse working shoes. Claude wrinkled his nose in disgust, but he took the piece o
f green currant pie on the palm of his hand and bit the acute angle from it.

"First-rate. You do make lickin’ good pies," he said Out of pure kindness of heart, and Nina was radiant.

"She wouldn’t be so bad-lookin’ if they didn’t work her in the fields like a horse," he said to himself as he drove away.

The neighbors were well aware of Nina’s devotion, and Mrs. Smith, who lived two or three houses down the road, said, "Good evening, Claude. Seen Nina today?"

"Sure! and she gave me a piece of currant pie–her own make. "

"Did you eat it?"

"Did I? I guess yes. I ain’t refusin’ pie from Nina–not while her pa has five hundred acres of the best land in Molasses Gap. "

Now, it was this innocent joking on his part that started all Claude’s trouble. Mrs. Smith called a couple of days later and had her joke with ‘Cindy.

"’Cindy, your cake’s all dough. "

"Why, what’s the matter now?"

"Claude come along t’other day grinnin’ from ear to ear, and some currant pie in his musstache. He had jest fixed it up with Nina. He jest as much as said he was after the old man’s acres. "

"Well, let him have ’em. I don’t know as it interests me," replied ‘Cindy, waving her head like a banner. "If he wants to sell himself to that greasy Dutchwoman why, let him, that’s all! I don’t care. "

Her heated manner betrayed her to Mrs. Smith, who laughed with huge enjoyment.

"Well, you better watch out!"

The next day was very warm, and when Claude drove up under the shade of the big maples he was ready for a chat while his horses rested, but ‘Cindy was nowhere to be seen. Mrs. Kennedy came out to get the amount of the skimming and started to re-enter the house without talk.

"Where’s the young folks?" asked Claude carelessly.

"If you mean Lucindy, she’s in the house. "

"Ain’t sick or nothin’, is she?"

"Not that anybody knows of. Don’t expect her to be here to gass with you every time, do ye?"

"Well, I wouldn’t mind"’ replied Claude. He was too keen not to see his chance. "In fact, I’d like to have her with me all the time, Mrs. Kennedy," he said with engaging frankness.

"Well, you can’t have her," the mother replied ungraciously.

"What’s the matter with me?"

"Oh, I like you well enough, but ‘Cindy’d be a big fool to marry a man without a roof to cover his head. "

"That’s where you take your inning, sure," Claude replied. "I’m not much better than a hired hand. Well, now, see here, I’m going to make a strike one of these days, and then–look out for me! You don’t know but what I’ve invested in a gold mine. I may be a Dutch lord in disguise. Better not be brash. "

Mrs. Kennedy’s sourness could not stand against sueb sweetness and drollery. She smiled in wry fashion. "You’d better be moving, or you’ll be late. "