"Ah," he said, bowing low, and then looking up at her. "I am afraid of St. Paul. He was a great scholar and in his hands the gospel was a dazzling thing. But with poor, ignorant Peter it was simple; and I choose Peter for my master because I am not afraid of him."
Below them Tom and Lou sat on a rock. The game young fellow was still shy. Sometimes he looked as if he despaired of ever recovering his wonted nerve, for in this girl, so modest and so shrinking, he knew that there lay asleep the wildcat's fearful spirit. Bold by nature he longed at times to see this spirit blaze, but her soft eyes pleaded with him and gentleness made him afraid.
"Come right in," said Margaret as they appeared at the door. "Have this cheer, Miz Mayfield?"
"No, thank you I'll sit over here." She sat down near the table, and Jim took a seat opposite to her and resumed his silent gaze. "We have had a delightful stroll," said Mrs. Mayfield, taking off her gloves; and Lou who stood behind her peeped around lovingly into her eyes.
"Stroll," cried Tom. "I call it a chase. And you could catch a deer almost as easily as to keep up with Miss Lou."
"Why, Mr. Tom, I didn't walk fast."
"Oh," he rejoined, "you didn't walk at all. You flitted."
His aunt looked at him. "Tom, dear, don't be extravagant."
"Extravagant! That's the reason father let me come up here. So I couldn't be extravagant."