When Holcroft came in to dinner that day the view he had adopted was confirmed, yet Alida's manner and appearance began to trouble him.  Even to his rather slow perception, she did not seem so happy as she had been.  She did not meet his eye with her old frank, friendly, and as he had almost hoped, affectionate, expression; she seemed merely feverishly anxious to do everything and have all as he wished.  Instead of acting with natural ease and saying what was in her mind without premeditation, a conscious effort was visible and an apparent solicitude that he should be satisfied.  The inevitable result was that he was more dissatisfied. "She's doing her best for me," he growled, as he went back to his work, "and it begins to look as if it might wear her out in time.  Confound it!  Having everything just so isn't of much account when a man's heart-hungry.  I'd rather have had one of her old smiles and gone without my dinner.  Well, well; how little a man understands himself or knows the future!  The day I married her I was in mortal dread lest she should care for me too much and want to be affectionate and all that; and here I am, discontented and moping because everything has turned out as I then wished.  Don't see as I'm to blame, either.  She had no business to grow so pretty.  Then she looked like a ghost, but now when the color comes into her cheeks, and her blue eyes sparkle, a man would be a stupid clod if he didn't look with all his eyes and feel his heart a-thumping.  That she should change so wasn't in the bargain; neither was it that she should read aloud in such sweet tones that a fellow'd like to listen to the dictionary; nor that she should make the house and yard look as they never did before, and, strangest of all, open my eyes to the fact that apple trees bear flowers as well as pippins.  I can't even go by a wild posy in the lane without thinking she'd like it and see in it a sight more than I once could.  I've been taken in, as old Jonathan feared," he muttered, following out his fancy with a sort of grim humor. "She isn't the woman I thought I was marrying at all, and I aint bound by my agreement--not in my thoughts, anyhow.  I'd have been in a nice scrape if I'd taken my little affidavit not to think of her or look upon her in any other light than that of housekeeper and butter maker.  It's a scary thing, this getting married with a single eye to business.  See where I am now!  Hanged if I don't believe I'm in love with my wife, and, like a thundering fool, I had to warn her against falling in love with me!  Little need of that, though.  She hasn't been taken in, for I'm the same old chap she married, and I'd be a mighty mean cuss if I went to her and said, 'Here, I want you to do twice as much, a hundred-fold as much as you agreed to.'  I'd be a fool, too, for she couldn't do it unless something drew her toward me just as I'm drawn toward her."

Late in the afternoon he leaned on the handle of his corn plow, and, in the consciousness of solitude, said aloud: "Things grow clear if you think of them enough, and the Lord knows I don't think of much else any more.  It isn't her good qualities which I say over to myself a hundred times a day, or her education, or anything of the kind, that draws me; it's she herself.  I like her.  Why don't I say love her, and be honest?  Well, it's a fact, and I've got to face it.  Here I am, plowing out my corn, and it looks splendid for its age.  I thought if I could stay on the old place, and plant and cultivate and reap, I'd be more than content, and now I don't seem to care a rap for the corn or the farm either, compared with Alida; and I care for her just because she is Alida and no one else.  But the other side of this fact has an ugly look.  Suppose I'm disagreeable to her!  When she married me she felt like a woman drowning; she was ready to take hold of the first hand reached to her without knowing much about whose hand it was.  Well, she's had time to find out.  She isn't drawn.  Perhaps she feels toward me somewhat as I did toward Mrs. Mumpson, and she can't help herself either.  Well, well, the bare thought of it makes my heart lead.  What's a man to do?  What can I do but live up to my agreement and not torment her any more than I can help with my company?  That's the only honest course.  Perhaps she'll get more used to me in time.  She might get sick, and then I'd be so kind and watchful that she'd think the old fellow wasn't so bad, after all, But I shan't give her the comfort of no end of self-sacrifice in trying to be pleasant and sociable.  If she's foolish enough to think she's in my debt she can't pay it in that way.  No, sir!  I've got to make the most of it now--I'm bound to--but this business marriage will never suit me until the white arm I saw in the dairy room is around my neck, and she looks in my eyes and says, 'James, I guess I'm ready for a longer marriage ceremony.'"

It was a pity that Alida could not have been among the hazelnut bushes near and heard him.

He resumed his toil, working late and doggedly.  At supper he was very attentive to Alida, but taciturn and preoccupied; and when the meal was over he lighted his pipe and strolled out into the moonlight.  She longed to follow him, yet felt it to be more impossible than if she were chained to the floor.

And so the days passed; Holcroft striving with the whole force of his will to appear absorbed in the farm, and she, with equal effort, to seem occupied and contented with her household and dairy duties.  They did everything for each other that they could, and yet each thought that the other was acting from a sense of obligation, and so all the more sedulously veiled their actual thoughts and feelings from each other.  Or course, such mistaken effort only led to a more complete misunderstanding.

With people of their simplicity and habit of reticence, little of what was in their hearts appeared on the surface.  Neither had time to mope, and their mutual duties were in a large measure a support and refuge.  Of these they could still speak freely for they pertained to business.  Alida's devotion to her work was unfeigned for it seemed now her only avenue of approach to her husband.  She watched over the many broods of little chickens with tireless vigilance.  If it were yellow gold, she could not have gathered the butter from the churn with greater greed.  She kept the house immaculate and sought to develop her cooking into a fine art.  She was scrupulous in giving Jane her lessons and trying to correct her vernacular and manners, but the presence of the child grew to be a heavier cross every day.  She could not blame the girl, whose misfortune it was to lead incidentally to the change in Holcroft's manner, yet it was impossible not to associate her with the beginning of that change.  Jane was making decided improvement, and had Alida been happy and at rest this fact would have given much satisfaction in spite of the instinctive repugnance which the girl seemed to inspire universally.  Holcroft recognized this repugnance and the patient effort to disguise it and be kind.

"Like enough she feels in the same way toward me," he thought, "and is trying a sight harder not to show it.  But she seems willing enough to talk business and to keep up her interest in the partnership line.  Well, blamed if I wouldn't rather talk business to her than love to any other woman!"

So it gradually came about that they had more and more to say to each other on matters relating to the farm.  Holcroft showed her the receipts from the dairy, and her eyes sparkled as if he had brought jewels home to her.  Then she in turn would expatiate on the poultry interests and assure him that there were already nearly two hundred little chicks on the place.  One afternoon, during a shower, she ventured to beguile him into listening to the greater part of one of the agricultural journals, and with much deference made two or three suggestions about the farm, which he saw were excellent.  She little dreamed that if she were willing to talk of turning the farm upside down and inside out, he would have listened with pleasure.

They both began to acquire more serenity and hopefulness, for even this sordid business partnership was growing strangely interesting.  The meals grew less and less silent, and the farmer would smoke his pipe invitingly near in the evening so that she could resume their talk on bucolic subjects without much conscious effort, while at the same time, if she did not wish his society, she could shun it without discourtesy.  He soon perceived that she needed some encouragement to talk even of farm matters; but, having received it, that she showed no further reluctance.  He naturally began to console himself with business as unstintedly as he dared. "As long as I keep on this tack all seems well," he muttered. "She don't act as if I was disagreeable to her, but then how can a man tell?  If she thinks it her duty, she'll talk and smile, yet shiver at the very thought of my touching her.  Well, well, time will show.  We seem to be getting more sociable, anyhow."

They both recognized this fact and tried to disguise it and to relieve themselves from the appearance of making any undue advances by greater formality of address.  In Jane's presence he had formed the habit of speaking to his wife as Mrs. Holcroft, and now he was invariably "Mr."

One evening in the latter part of June, he remarked at supper, "I must give half a day to hoeing the garden tomorrow.  I've been so busy working out the corn and potatoes that it seems an age since I've been in the garden."

"She and me," began Jane, "I mean Mrs. Holcroft and I, have been in the garden."

"That's right, Jane, You're coming on.  I think your improved talk and manners do Mrs. Holcroft much credit.  I'd like to take some lessons myself."  Then, as if a little alarmed at his words, he hastened to ask, "What have you been doing in the garden?"

"You'll see when you go there," replied Jane, her small eyes twinkling with the rudiments of fun.

Holcroft looked at the child as if he had not seen her for some time either.  Her hair was neatly combed, braided, and tied with a blue ribbon instead of a string, her gown was as becoming as any dress could be to her, her little brown hands were clean, and they no longer managed the knife and fork in an ill-bred manner.  The very expression of the child's face was changing, and now that it was lighted up with mirth at the little surprise awaiting him, it had at least attained the negative grace of being no longer repulsive.  He sighed involuntarily as he turned away. "Just see what she's doing for that child that I once thought hideous!  How much she might do for me if she cared as I do!"

He rose from the table, lighted his pipe, and went out to the doorstep.  Alida looked at him wistfully. "He stood there with me once and faced a mob of men," she thought. "Then he put his arm around me.  I would face almost any danger for even such a caress again."  The memory of that hour lent her unwonted coura............