Nan and Raven had their noon dinner and went for a walk, up the road. That led them past Tenney's and when they reached the house Raven said:
"You wait a jiff and I'll ask how he is."
Tira came, in answer to his knock. She was gravely calm, not even disturbed in her secret mind, Raven concluded, not keyed up by inner apprehension, and keeping herself firm. Where, he wondered absently, at the same instant, did she get those clothes, blue, always worn to the exact point of soft loveliness, the very moral of her eyes? She glanced down the path at Nan, and Nan waved to her. Tira gave a serious little bow and turned her glance to Raven, who inquired:
"How's his foot?"
"It pains him a good deal," she said, with that softness he had noted in her voice while they dressed the hurt. "He has to set with it in a chair. It worries him to death not to git round."
"Good Lord!" said Raven. "You must think I'm a nice chap. Who's doing the barn work?"
"Oh," said Tira, "that's all right. I can see to that. I always do when he's gone for day's works."
"You can't water the stock."
"Oh, yes, I can." Now she smiled at him, beautifully, bewilderingly, for his kindness in asking. "I done it before dinner. That's nothin'. Besides, I like it: takes me out door."
"Don't do any more," said Raven. "We'll be over, 'long about four o'clock, Jerry or I." Then, for he had forgotten Tenney, in his awareness of her, he remembered to ask: "The doctor came, did he?"