It was mid-morning next day, when Hazel was making butter, that a rap sounded on the kitchen door.
"Come in," she called continuing to turn steadily the handle of her box churn.
It was Rafe Tuckleton who opened the door and walked in. Hazel's eyes narrowed at sight of the man. Rafe Tuckleton! What on earth did he want?
"Uncle's out," she said shortly.
"I didn't come to see him," explained Rafe, with a smile he strove to make ingratiating. "I came to see you."
"I don't know what you can want to see me about."
"I have my reasons," said Rafe vaguely.
Hat in hand, he started to sidle to a chair.
"Don't they have any doors where you live?" Hazel inquired sharply.
"Oh," Rafe wheeled hastily and closed the door. He set a trifle to the young lady's account. He was not accustomed to being talked to this way. The snip!