Alfred replied happily:
"I don't know where you would be, but I can tell you where you might be."
His eager voice beguiled her, but she resisted its pleading.
"I might be almost alone in the world. My two sisters are married. They live in small houses. There wouldn't be room for me. I like this place, but, oh, dear! some places be awful. It's selfish to think of myself, but I can't help it."
"'Tis a heartsome thing to think about. I think about you, Fancy, when I drive slow along our roads. You fill my mind, you do."
He hoped fervently that she would say what he wanted and confess outright that she let some of her thoughts dwell on him. But again the poor fellow was grievously disappointed. She murmured confusedly:
"How funny!"
"Funny be damned!"
"Alfred——!"
"I don't care. I'm moved as if I'd taken your father's horse medicine. You're raking me up with a small tooth-comb. If I think of you all the time, 'twould seem fair that you'd think of me some of the time."