"He did speak to the hornets," said Polly.
"Swore, too," said Paul.
"Nature has her own way with folly; you can't hold your tongue when she speaks to you," Trove answered.
Near sunset, they came into Brier Dale. Tunk was to be there at supper time, and drive home with Polly and her brothers. The widow had told him not to come by the Brier Road; it would take him past Rickard's Inn, where he loved to tarry and display horsemanship.
Mary Allen met them at the door.
"Mother, here is my future wife," said Trove, proudly.
Then ruddy lips of youth touched the faded cheek of the good woman.
"We shall be married in September," said Trove, tossing his hat in the air. "We're going to have a grand time, and mind you, mother, no more hard work for you. Where is Tige?" Tige was the young painter.
"I don't know," said Mary Allen. "He's up in a tree somewhere, maybe. Come in, all of you; supper's ready."
While they were eating. Trove heard a sound of wheels, and went to the door. Tunk had arrived. He had a lump, the size of an apple,-on his forehead; another on his chin. As Trove approached him, he spat over a front wheel, and sat looking down sadly.