"
"She's windin' us all," replied his wife, "an' we're standin'
grateful-like, waitin' to be wound."
"That's so--all except Austin. Austin's mad as a hatter at what she got
him to do Sunday morning; he doesn't like her, Mary."
"Humph!" said his wife.
CHAPTER III
"Good-bye, Mrs. Gray, I'm going for a ride."
"Good-bye, dearie; sure it ain't too hot?"
"Not a bit; it's rained so hard all this week that I haven't had a bit of
exercise, and I'm getting cross."
"Cross! I'd like to see you once! It still looks kinder thunderous to me
off in the West, so don't go far."
"I won't, I promise; I'll be back by supper-time. There's Austin, just up
from the hayfield--I'll get him to saddle for me." And Sylvia ran quickly
towards the barn.
"You don't mean to say you're going out this torrid day?" he demanded,
lifting his head from the tin bucket in which he had submerged it as she
voiced her request, and eyeing her black linen habit with disfavor.
"It's no hotter on the highroad than in the hayfield.
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