On each side of the road lay the broad fields, where, in the furrows of dark earth, freshly ploughed, young corn was already thrusting upwards its vivid green blades.
“How do you like my scare-crow?” Mr. Sheridan called back, waving gaily toward the grotesque figure which bore an absurd resemblance to Peterson. “I made Peterson dress him up in his winter suit. Isn’t he a fine, impressive fellow, though. How do you think he’d strike you if you were a crow?” Then without waiting for an answer, he went on talking to Lily, describing all his late activities in the line of agriculture, his plans for new buildings on his land, and airing, boyishly all his newly acquired—and perhaps not entirely assimilated—knowledge of farming. Jane might have found this talk distinctly disappointing, but to Lily everything that he said seemed remarkable.
“And then, perhaps, you are going to live here—a good deal of the time?” she asked timidly. “I very glad that you have found so much to interest you.”
Mr. Sheridan turned to help her over a stile. For some reason, her words, so simply said, and without the slightest tinge of coquetry, seemed to disconcert him.
“I—yes. I—have grown very much attached to Frederickstown—and farming is interesting because—because—” But for the life of him he could not think of any reason why.
The little party trailed across the field, all walking together now, laughing and talking. Only Carl hung behind. To begin with, he was not yet on speaking terms with Paul, and he was piqued at Jane, and the sunlight made his over-strained eyes ache, and he was thoroughly tired out already. Lily was walking arm in arm with Elise, and both were talking to Mr. Sheridan, the twins were running ahead, trying to catch the yellow butterflies that they frightened away from the early field-flowers; and Paul and Jane strolled along side by side sometimes joining in the talk of the others, sometimes discussing their own affairs. But at last Jane turned around, and noticing for the first time how Carl was lagging, called to him.
“Why don’t you come and walk with us, Carl?”
“I’m all right as I am, amn’t I?” he returned. Jane shrugged her shoulders.
“What’s the matter with him?” she asked Paul. “Have you had another quarrel?”
“Not since Monday,—haven’t had a chance. He won’t speak to me. I don’t know what’s the matter with him,” Paul shook his head. “I have tried to get along with him, but I can’t seem to work it. He says he hates me, and that he’s always hated me—and maybe its true, though I don’t see why. I mean that I’ve never given him any cause that I know of. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. I seem to make him downright unhappy—he acts as if I had slipped into his shoes, and I’ve never taken anything he wanted, have I?” and after a short pause, he added, “And I’m sure that I don’t want anything he has. It seems to get worse with him all the time. Perhaps, Janey, his feelings may be hurt because you and I get along so well. Maybe I’d feel the same way if I were your brother, and he were a ‘swell-head’ cousin from nowhere. After a bit, why don’t you drop back with him?”