"You are not a knot," cried Rita indignantly.
"Rita," said Dic, "you know the walnut knot, while it shows the roughest bark, has the finest grain in the tree."
"I am going home if you don't stop that sort of talking," said Billy, pleased to his toes, but pretending to be annoyed.
A fortnight before Dic's intended departure for New York an opportunity presented itself of which the young man, after due consideration, determined to take advantage. He walked over one evening to see Tom, but, as usual, found Rita. After a few minutes in which to work his courage up, he said:—
"There is to be a church social at Scott's to-morrow night—the Baptists. I wonder if you would like—that is, would want to—would be willing to go with me?"
"I would be glad to go," answered the girl; "but mother won't let me."
"We'll go in and ask her, if you wish," he replied.
"There's no use, but we can try. Perhaps if she thinks I don't want to go, she will consent."
Into the house they went, and Dic made his wants known to the head of the family.
"No," snapped the good lady, "she can't go. Girls of sixteen and seventeen nowadays think they are young ladies."