At the table June wanted to help ole Hon and wait to eat with her, but Uncle Billy made her sit down with him and Hale, and so shy was she that she hardly ate anything. Once only did she look up from her plate and that was when Uncle Billy, with a shake of his head, said:
“He's a bad un.” He was speaking of Rufe Tolliver, and at the mention of his name there was a frightened look in the little girl's eyes, when she quickly raised them, that made Hale wonder.
An hour later they were riding side by side--Hale and June--on through the lights and shadows toward Lonesome Cove. Uncle Billy turned back from the gate to the porch.
“He ain't come back hyeh jes' fer coal,” said ole Hon.
“Shucks!” said Uncle Billy; “you women-folks can't think 'bout nothin' 'cept one thing. He's too old fer her.”
“She'll git ole enough fer HIM--an' you menfolks don't think less--you jes' talk less.” And she went back into the kitchen, and on the porch the old miller puffed on a new idea in his pipe.
For a few minutes the two rode in silence and not yet had June lifted her eyes to him.
“You said you'd be waiting for me.” June's lashes went lower still.
“Well, what's the matter? I'm mighty sorry I couldn't get back sooner.”
“Huh!” said June scornfully, and he knew Uncle Billy in his guess as to the trouble was far afield, and so he tried another tack.
“I've been over to the county seat and I saw lots of your kinfolks over there.” She showed no curiosity, no surprise, and still she did not look up at him.
“I met your cousin, Loretta, over there and I carried her home behind me on an old mule”--Hale paused, smiling at the remembrance--and still she betrayed no interest.
“She's a mighty pretty girl, and whenever I'd hit that old---”
“She hain't!”--the words were so shrieked out that Hale was bewildered, and then he guessed that the falling out between the fathers was more serious than he had supposed.
“But she isn't as nice as you are,” he added quickly, and the girl's quivering mouth steadied, the tears stopped in her vexed dark eyes and she lifted them to him at last.
For a while they rode along again in silence. June no longer avoided his eyes now, and the unspoken question in her own presently came out:
“You won't let Uncle Rufe bother me no more, will ye?”