Gradually the shed had filled to overflowing.  A white-haired preacher raised the tune of a familiar hymn, and the principal service of the day began.

After the sermon was over, the congregation rose to get their lunch-baskets, which had been left in their vehicles.

“Mighty poky business so far,” Westerfelt heard Jennie Wynn say, as she and Hansard went out ahead of him; “wait until after dinner, they’ll get limbered up by that time.”

Westerfelt hoped Harriet and Bates would leave as soon as the others did, but he saw them standing between the benches as if waiting for some one.  He looked straight ahead of him as he approached them, and was about to pass without looking in the direction, when Bates caught his arm and detained him.

“Miss Harriet wants to see you,” he said, with a grin; “you wouldn’t be in such a hurry if you knew what for.”

“I want you to come to dinner with us,” Harriet said, tremulously, leaning forward.  “Jennie Wynn and I are going to put our baskets together, and Hyram Longtree and Sue Kirby are coming.”

“I thank you,” he said, “but I reckon I’ll have to eat with Mrs. Bradley.”  He might have accepted the invitation if Bates had not been grinning so complacently and looking at Harriet with such a large air of ownership.

“Oh, come on,” urged Bates.  “You get Bradley hash every day; there is some’n good in our basket; I could smell it all the way out here.”

“I wish you would come,” urged Harriet.  “Mrs. Bradley will let you off.”

There was something in her look and tone that convinced him that she had detected his jealousy and was sympathizing with him, and that in itself angered him.

“No, I thank you, not to-day,” he said, coldly; “how did you like the preacher?”

“Very well,” she replied, her face falling.  “I have heard him before.”

He had brought it on himself, but he was stung to the quick when she touched Bates’s arm, smiled indifferently, and said:  “I see Sue and Hyram out there waiting for us; we’d better go.”

As Westerfelt walked on, overwhelmed with jealous rage, he heard her in the same tone ask Jennie Wynn to send Frank after her basket.  Westerfelt edged his way through the crowd to Mrs. Bradley and Mrs. Dawson.

“Why,” said Mrs. Bradley, “I ‘lowed you’d go off an’ eat with some o’ yore young friends.  But we are glad you come.”

“I never go back on home folks,” he said, making an effort to speak lightly.

“Well, I fetched enough fer a dozen field-hands,” laughed Mrs. Bradley.  “Two young preachers have promised to eat with me; that’s all I’ve axed.  Luke, you go bring Brother Jones an’ his friend, an’ wait fer us out at the wagon.”

“Why cayn’t we fetch the dinner in heer an’ not have to sit on the damp ground?” suggested Bradley.

“Beca’se, gumption! they won’t have us greasin’ up the benches that folks set on in the’r best duds,” she retorted.  “Besides, the pine straw will keep us off’n the ground, ef you ain’t too lazy to rake it up.”