"I cannot tell her, Jim, I really cannot. I don't how know to begin to tell her."
"Why do you need to tell her?" Jim asked. "Hasn't the lady eyes and understanding? What does she think I come for?"
"She doesn't know you come. She sees somebody here, but she thinks it's the grocery-boy waiting until I empty his basket."
"Indeed," Jim said a little stiffly, "which one, I wonder."
"Don't you remember the night she said to me 'And what did you say this young man's name is, Camilla'—no, no, Jim, she hasn't noticed you at all."
Jim was silent a moment.
"Well now," he said at last, "she seemed to be taking notice that morning I came in without any very good excuse, and she said 'How does it happen that you are not harvesting this beautiful day, Mr. Russell?'"
"Yes, and what did you say?" Camilla asked a trifle severely.
Jim looked a little embarrassed.
"I said—I had not felt well lately, and I had come in to see the doctor."