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And all about her seemed different.
"Lucy--you look--like--like she used to be," said Bostil, unsteadily.
"My mother!" murmured Lucy.
But these two, so keen, so strong, so alive, did not abide long with sad
memories.
"Lucy, I want to ask you somethin'," said Bostil, presently. "What about this
young Joel Creech?"
Lucy started as if suddenly recalled, then she laughed merrily. "Dad, you old
fox, did you see him ride out after me?"
"No. I was just askin' on--on general principles."
"What do you mean?"
"Lucy, is there anythin' between you an' Joel?" he asked, gravely.
"No," she replied, with her clear eyes up to his.
Bostil thought of a bluebell. "I'm beggin' your pardon," he said, hastily.
"Dad, you know how Joel runs after me. I've told you. I let him till lately. I
liked him. But that wasn't why. I felt sorry for him--pitied him."
"You did? Seems an awful waste," replied Bostil.
"Dad, I don't believe Joel is--perfectly right in his mind," Lucy said,
solemnly.
"Haw! haw! Fine compliments you're payin' yourself.


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