you would never listen to Albert Chevalier again.
That, of course, was the just and admirable exaggeration of youth and friendship.
But it was the fact that always after the young man had sung there was an unusually prolonged silence, and, as Amersham once said, you felt as if you were in church.
This evening, after he had finished, and Mrs. Woodburn had broken the silence with her quiet "Thank you," the young man returned to the subject he had broached in the stable.
Silver indeed was nothing if not dogged, as the girl was beginning to find out.
"I say, Miss Woodburn," he began in that casual way of his, "I wish you'd take charge of that old yellow moke o' mine."
Boy shook her head.
He laughed and drew his chair beside her as she worked. Not seldom now he doffed the Puritan with her, and became easy, chaffing, almost gallant. Amersham and his friends would have been amazed had they seen their sober Jim Silver so much at home with a lady.
"Oh, I say—why not?" he protested, boyish and chaffing.
"He's too much of a handful for me," said the girl gravely, threading her needle against the light.