was rather anxious to marry; but she has always
been down on Isaac Appleby, from principle, because of a family feud
on her mother's side; besides, an old beau of hers, a widower at
Kingsbridge, was just beginning to take notice again, and I suspected
Melissa had hopes concerning him. Finally, I imagine Melissa did not
fancy being second choice.

Whatever her reasons were, she refused poor Isaac, and that finished
his matrimonial prospects as far as Jersey Cove was concerned, for
there wasn't another eligible woman in it--that is, for a man of
Isaac's age. I was the only widow, and the other old maids besides
Melissa were all hopelessly old-maiden.

This was all three months ago, and Isaac had been keeping house for
himself ever since. Nobody knew much about how he got along, for the
Appleby house is half a mile from anywhere, down near the shore at the
end of a long lane--the lonesomest place, as I did not fail to
remember when I was considering Isaac's offer.

"I heard Jarvis Aldrich say Isaac had got a dog lately," said Melissa,
when we finally came in sight of the house--a handsome new one, by the
way, put up only ten years ago. "Jarvis said it was an imported
breed. I do hope it isn't cross."

I have a mortal horror of dogs, and I followed Melissa into the big
farmyard with fear and trembling. We were halfway across the yard when
Melissa shrieked:

"Anne, there's the dog!"

There was the dog; and the trouble was that he didn't stay there, but
came right down the slope at a steady, business-like trot. He was a
bull-dog and big enough to bite a body clean in two, and he was the
ugliest thing in dogs I had ever seen.

Melissa and I both lost our heads. We screamed, dropped our parasols,
and ran instinctively to the only refuge that was in sight--a ladder
leaning against the old Appleby house. I am forty-five and something
more than plump, so that climbing ladders is not my favorite form of
exercise. But I went up that one with the agility and grace of
sixteen. Melissa followed me, and we found ourselves on the
roof--fortunately it was a flat one--panting and gasping, but safe,
unless that diabolical dog could climb a ladder.

I crept cautiously to the edge and peered over. The beast was sitting
on his haunches at the foot of the ladder, and it was quite evident he
was not short on time. The gleam in his eye seemed to say:

"I've got you two unprincipled subscription hunters beautifully treed
and it's tree