"Blood o' the old earth!" said Darrel. "How fares the clock?"
"It's too slow, Polly says."
"Ah, time lags when love is on the way," Darrel answered.
"Foolish child! A little while ago she was a baby, an' now she is in love."
"Ah, let the girl love," said Darrel, patting the red cheek of
Polly, "an' bless God she loves a worthy lad,"
"You'd better fix the clock." said Polly, smiling. "It is too fast, now."
"So is the beat o' thy heart," Darrel answered, a merry look in his eyes, "an' the clock is keeping pace."
Trove got up, with a laugh, and went away, the boys following.
"I'm worried about him," the widow whispered. "For a long time he hasn't been himself."
"It's the trouble—poor lad! 'Twill soon be over," said Darrel, hopefully.