"Yes, Jim."
He kissed her again and hastened down the road. She looked after him until his head sank down behind a hill, and then for a long time she stood there, leaning upon the fence, and suddenly, with her hands clasped, she cried: "Oh, miracles were wrought in the wilderness."
CHAPTER XVI.
THE APPOINTMENT COMES.
While she was still standing there, musing over her happiness, Lije Peters, peering about, came into the yard. He cleared his throat and she looked at him, and moving further off, she sat down in a rocking-chair which she had brought from the house earlier in the day. With a show of respect Peters took off his hat.
"Howdy do, ma'm? I don't believe you an' me air very well acquainted."
"Our acquaintance hasn't ripened into friendship."
He laughed and replied: "Well, the bloom may be as putty as the fruit."
"Very good. I didn't expect it—of you."