“We must find some way to thwart him,” said Marion, as she opened the gate that led to the farm-house. “It is horrible to think of such a thing. The idea of a man trying to get rid of his own daughter, even selling her body and soul, for that is exactly what it amounts to. Silas Johnson isn’t a bad fellow, but he is an awful bore. He isn’t much like what we have dreamed of in the way of lovers.”
They had entered the dingy kitchen now and closed the door behind them. There was no one there, so they went on softly with their confidences.
“I should say not,” said Dollie, smiling brightly through her tears, as she recalled the mental pictures of the gallant youths which they had so often woven into the links of their daisy chains, hoping that some day they would come, like Cinderella’s Prince, and rescue them from the drudgery of farm life, which they hated.
“Our lovers must be all that is grand and brave and true,” she cried excitedly. “They must be of noble blood, like the knights in the story books, who would risk their lives for a maiden’s love and think no peril too great to keep them from their trysts. Oh. I have often dreamed of them, Marion, and such beautiful dreams. It was like a glimpse of bliss to be loved by such a lover.”
“And just think, Dollie, the world is full of them,” cried Marion. “There really are just such knights and they do kneel at the feet of blushing maidens.”
“It makes me tremble with delight just to think of it,” murmured Dollie. “Oh, Marion, will I ever have a lover like that? One whose slightest word will make me thrill with pleasure. If we only lived in the city, darling. But no one will ever come here. We will just die longing for love and never, never get it.”
“Mine was to have black eyes and brown hair, and be very tall,” began Marion, wiping her eyes, “and he was to be, oh, so gentle and tender in his wooing, yet all the time as brave and strong as a lion! Oh, my lover was to be a perfect prince among men, and we were to marry and live in a little paradise of pleasure!”
Her cheeks were glowing as she finished her impulsive speech, and radiant smiles were dimpling her fair features.
“And mine was to have gray eyes; like yours, Marion; and a big mustache, and—but, oh, my goodness! Just look at who is coming!”
Dollie finished abruptly, pointing out of the window.