It occurred to Sterling for the first time that she might represent a personality. He went around the other two men, who had fallen into some talk about the flume, and stood in the path beside her.
"I have not seen you since you were up the cañon," he said kindly. "I hope your arm did not pain you."
Melissa shook her head without looking up.
"It was only a scratch; it didn't even swell up. I never said nothin' about it," she added in a lower tone.
The young man entered into the situation with easy social grace, and lowered his own voice.
"You didn't want to alarm your mother"—
"M'lissy," interrupted Lysander, "I guess I'll go on up to the sand-box with Mr. Poindexter and turn on some water. I wish you'd go 'long down to the orchard and look after the basins till I git back. I won't be gone but a minute."
Sterling lifted his hat with a winsome smile that seemed to illuminate the twilight of poor Melissa's wilted sunbonnet, and the three men started up the cañon, the bay that they pushed aside on the path sending back a sweet, spicy fragrance.
Melissa shouldered her hoe and proceeded homeward.
"He does act awful pullite," she mused, "an' he had on a ring: I didn't know men folks ever wore rings. I wish I hadn't 'a' been barefooted."