Two or three wives among the emigrants had tried to get a word with Virginia in private; and some of the men had grinned and winked at me in a way that I should have been glad to notice according to my old canal habits; but I had sense enough to see that that would never do.
Virginia was now as free from care as if she had been traveling with her brother; and what could I say?
What did I want to say?
By morning I had made up my mind that I would take her to my farm and care for her there, regardless of consequences--and I admit that I was not clear as to the proprieties.

Every one was a stranger to every one else in this country.
Whose business was it anyhow?
Doctor Bliven and his companion--I had worked out a pretty clear understanding of their case by this time--were settling in the new West and leaving their past behind them.

Who could have anything to say against it if I took this girl with me to my farm, cared for her, protected her; and gave her the home that nobody else seemed ready to give?
"Do you ever go to church ?" asked Virginia.

"It's Sunday." "Is there preaching here to-day ?" I asked.
"Don't you hear the bell ?" she inquired.
"Let's go!" said I.
We were late; and the heads of the people were bowed in prayer as we went in; so we stood by the door until the prayer was over.

The preacher was Elder Thorndyke.