"Could I have a few moments' conversation with you, sir?" she asked,
with stiff formality.
"Certainly," said Farnham, smiling. "Shall we go into the house?"
"Thank you, sir," she rejoined, severely decorous. They walked up the
garden-path together, and Sam looked after them with an unquiet heart.
She was walking beside Farnham with a stately step, in spite of the
scabbard-like narrowness of the dress she wore. She was nearly as tall
as he, and as graceful as a young pine blown to and fro by soft winds.
The carpenter, with his heart heavy with love and longing, felt a
bitter sense that she was too fine for him. They passed into the house,
and he turned to his work with a sigh, often dropping his busy hands
and looking toward the house with a dumb questioning in his eyes. After
a half hour which seemed endless to him, they reappeared and walked
slowly down the lawn. There was trouble and agitation in the girl's
face, and Farnham was serious also. As they came by the rose-house,
Maud paused and looked up with a sorrowful smile and a question.
Farnham nodded, and they walked to the open door of the long, low
building.
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