At the foot of the hill behind Lady Phillips's manor, Uriah tied his horse to a tree and waited.  He didn't have to wait long.  The back door opened and Elizabeth came out with her empty basket. She paused, took a deep breath of fresh air, happily walked down the path and disappeared beyond the stone archway. As soon as she was out of sight, he started through the unkempt yard toward the house. When he arrived, he removed his tall round hat, ran his fingers through his dark hair, flicked a small leaf off the sleeve of his shirt, and pulled the scarf out of his pocket. Just as he reached for the bell rope, the door opened.

"Mister Carson!" Mary gasped.

He quickly bowed. "Miss Jackson, I have come to thank you for the scarf."

"You are welcome." His bow was not mocking like the others so, at length, she returned with a curtsey. Yet, she kept her eyes down.

He carefully watched her face, "Your embroidery is as fine as any I have seen."

"I thank you."

Uriah looked away. He could feel her watching him, but as soon as he turned back she looked down again. The stillness was awkward and he searched for something more to say. "I . . ."

Mary interrupted him, "Your brother is a fine craftsman. He digs a pond for us over there." She pointed toward a cleared area in the back yard. "It will lesson our labors considerably."