"Humph! What did Colonel Ebenezer Zane tell him?" asked Bessie, in disgust.
"Oh, not much. I simply told him not to lose his nerve; that a woman never meant 'no'; that she often says it only to be made say 'yes.' And I ended up with telling him if she got a little skittish, as thoroughbreds do sometimes, to try a strong arm. That was my way."
"Col. Zane, if my memory does not fail me, you were as humble and beseeching as the proudest girl could desire."
"I beseeching? Never!"
"I hope Alfred's wooing may go well. I like him very much. But I'm afraid. Betty has such a spirit that it is quite likely she will refuse him for no other reason than that he built his cabin before he asked her."
"Nonsense. He asked her long ago. Never fear, Bess, my sister will come back as meek as a lamb."
Meanwhile Betty and Alfred were strolling down the familiar path toward the river. The October air was fresh with a suspicion of frost. The clear notes of a hunter's horn came floating down from the hills. A flock of wild geese had alighted on the marshy ground at the end of the island where they kept up a continual honk! honk! The brown hills, the red forest, and the yellow fields were now at the height of their autumnal beauty. Soon the November north wind would thrash the trees bare, and bow the proud heads of the daisies and the goldenrod; but just now they flashed in the sun, and swayed back and forth in all their glory.
"I see you limp. Are you not entirely well?" Betty was saying.
"Oh, I am getting along famously, thank you," said Alfred. "This one foot was quite severely burned and is still tender."
"You have had your share of injuries. I heard my brother say you had been wounded three times within a year."