"What do you say, Callista?" inquired the postulant bridegroom without looking up.
In the soft dusk of the interior the girl's face was crimson. Here came the time when she could no longer pretend to be urged into the marriage by her mother, her grandfather, the course of events; but must say "yes" or "no" openly of her own motion. Last night's startling accost yet shook her young heart; the glamour of that hour came back upon her senses.
"I say whatever you say, Lance," she uttered, scarcely above a whisper.
Ajax Gentry laughed out.
"Well—I reckon that settles it," he said, jingling his harness and turning to leave.
"No—it don't settle nothin'," broke in Octavia anxiously. "Lance ain't got any land cleared to speak of over on his place, and he ain't put in any crop; how air the both of 'em to live? 77 They'll just about have obliged to stay here with us. You can find work for Lance on the farm, cain't ye, Pappy?"
Old Ajax measured his prospective grand-son-in-law with a steady eye, and assured himself that there was not room on the farm nor in the house for two masters. He read mastery in every line of face and figure. Lance got to his feet so suddenly that he might have been said to leap up.
"I've built me a good cabin, and it's all ready. Callista and me are goin' into no house but our own," he said brusquely. "Ain't that so, Callista?"
Again the girl within the doorway answered in that hushed, almost reluctant voice,
"Just as you say. Lance."