“I don’t suppose it makes so much difference when folks get older,” Rose returned.

“Maybe it don’t.  Rose.”

“What is it?”

“I wish you’d go into the store with me.”

Rose laughed.  “What for?”

“Nothing.  Only I wish you would.”

“You afraid of William?” Rose peered around into Rebecca’s bonnet.

Rebecca blushed until tears came to her eyes.  “I’d like to know what I’d be afraid of William Berry for,” she replied.

“Then what do you want me to go into the store with you for?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a great ninny, Rebecca Thayer,” Rose said, laughing, “but I’ll go if you want me to.  I know William won’t like it.  You run away from him the whole time.  There isn’t another girl in Pembroke treats him as badly as you do.”

“I don’t treat him badly.”

“Yes, you do.  And I don’t believe but what you like him, Rebecca Thayer; you wouldn’t act so silly if you didn’t.”

Rebecca was silent.  Rose peered around in her face again.  “I was only joking.  I think a sight more of you for not running after him, and so does William.  You haven’t any idea how some of the girls act chasing to the store.  Mother and I have counted ’em some days, and then we plague William about it, but he won’t own up they come to see him.  He acts more ashamed of it than the girls do.”

“That’s one thing I never would do—­run after any fellow,” said Rebecca.

“I wouldn’t either.”

Then the two girls had reached the tavern and the store.  Rose’s father, Silas Berry, had kept the tavern, but now it was closed, except to occasional special guests.  He had gained a competency, and his wife Hannah had rebelled against further toil.  Then, too, the railroad had been built through East Pembroke instead of Pembroke, the old stage line had become a thing of the past, and the tavern was scantily patronized.  Still, Silas Berry had given it up with great reluctance; he cherished a grudge against his wife because she had insisted upon it, and would never admit that business policy had aught to do with it.

The store adjoining the tavern, which he had owned for years, he still retained, but his son William had charge of it.  Silas Berry was growing old, and the year before had had a slight shock of paralysis, which had made him halt and feeble, although his mind was as clear as ever.  However, although he took no active part in the duties of the store, he was still there, and sharply watchful for his interests, the greater part of every day.

The two girls went up the steps to the store piazza.  Rose stepped forward and looked in the door.  “Father’s in there, and Tommy Ray,” she whispered.  “You needn’t be afraid to go in.”  But she entered as she spoke, and Rebecca followed her.

There was one customer in the great country store, a stout old man, on the grocery side.  His broad red face turned towards them a second, then squinted again at some packages on the counter.  He was haggling for garden seeds.  William Berry, who was waiting upon him, did not apparently look at his sister and Rebecca Thayer, but Rebecca had entered his heart as well as the store, and he saw her face deep in his own consciousness.