"When I went there to-night I was like those puppies, just as green and confident--just as sure of everybody's kindness."
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Katie," he replied in a low tone.
"I don't mean to whine," she went on, "but you see I wasn't expecting it, and, like the puppies, it took me a long time to understand. I thought at first it was my dress--that I looked--funny, somehow; but you said it wasn't that, so I thought maybe it was because we were 'in sheep,' but so is Neifkins, and nobody treated them as they did me."
"The upstarts!" savagely. "I'll never forgive myself for taking you there!"
She protested quickly: "You're not to blame. How could you know? You meant to do something nice for me, Hughie."
He winced at that. It would have required more courage than he had to have told her at the moment the exact truth.
He held the horses back and stopped suddenly.
"Katie," turning to her, "I'd do anything in the world to make amends for what happened to-night. Isn't there some way--something I can do for you? Anything at all," he pleaded. "Just tell me--no matter what it is--you've only to let me know."
She looked at him with grateful eyes, but shook her head.
"No, Hughie, there's nothing you can do for me." She caught her breath sharply and added, "Ex--except to go on liking me. It would break my heart if you went back on me, too."
"Kate!"
"If you didn't like me any more--" She choked and the swift tears filled her eyes.
"Like you!" impetuously. "I'd do more than like you if I never had seen you before to-night!" He dropped the bridle reins and laid a hand on either shoulder, holding her at arms' length. "Your eyes are like stars! And your mouth looks so--sweet! And your hair is so soft and pretty when the wind blows it across your forehead and face like that! I wish you could see yourself. You're beautiful in the moonlight, Kate!"
"Beautiful?" incredulously. Then she laughed happily, "Why, I'm not even pretty, Hughie."
"And what's more," he declared, "you're a wonderful girl--different--a fellow never gets tired of being with you."
"You are making up to me for what happened to-night! I nearly forget it when you tell me things like that."
"I didn't know how much I did care until they hurt you. I could have killed somebody if it wouldn't have made things worse for you."
"As much as that?" She looked at him wistfully. "You care as much as that? You see," she added slowly, "nobody's ever taken my part except Uncle Joe--not even my mother; and it seems--queer to think that anybody else likes me well enough to fight for me."