"You must not."
"There is no one else now. I must." He could feel her hands quiver in his, as he forcibly held them, and knew from her panting breath how her heart was beating. She held her head high, nevertheless, and looked bravely back into his eyes.
"You must let me—" he paused. Intuitively he knew he must not say as yet what he would. "Let me direct you a little. You have been most kind to me—and—it is my place; I am a doctor, you know."
"If I were sick or hurt, I would give heed to you, I would do anything you say; but I'm not, and this is laid on me to do. Leave go my hands, Doctor Thryng."
"If you'll sit down here a moment and talk this thing out with me, I will. Now tell me first of all, why is this laid on you?"
"Frale is gone and it must be done, or we will have no crop, and then we must sell the animals, and then go down and live like poor white trash." Her low, passive monotone sounded like a moan of sorrow.
"You must hire some one to do this heavy work."
"Every one is working his own patch now, and—no, I have no money to hire with. I reckon I've thought it all over every way, Doctor." She looked sadly down at her hands and then up at the mountain top. "I know you think this is no work for a girl to