They sat a little time in silence, looking at the shores of the pond.
"Have ye never felt the love passion?" said Darrel.
"Well, there's a girl of the name of Polly," Trove answered.
"Ah, Polly! she o' the red lip an' the dark eye," said Darrel, smiling. "She's one of a thousand." He clapped his hand upon his knee, merrily, and sang a sentimental couplet from an old Irish ballad.
"Have ye won her affection, boy?" he added, his hand on the boy's arm.
"I think I have."
"God love thee! I'm glad to hear it," said the old man. "She is a living wonder, boy, a living wonder, an' had I thy youth I'd give thee worry."
"Since her mother cannot afford to do it, I wish to send her away to school," said Trove.
"Tut, tut, boy; thou hast barely enough for thy own schooling."
"I've eighty-two dollars in my pocket," said Trove, proudly. "I do not need it. The job in the mill—that will feed me and pay my room rent, and my clothes will do me for another year."