hough you mightn't have thought so
if you had seen the face of that dog.

Isaac ordered Julius Caesar away and put up the ladder, and turned his
back, real considerately, while we climbed down. We had to go in his
house and stay till the shower was over. I didn't forget the object of
our call and I produced our subscription list at once.

"How much have you got?" asked Isaac.

"Seventy dollars and we want a hundred and fifty," I said.

"You may put me down for the remaining eighty, then," said Isaac
calmly.

The Applebys are never mean where money is concerned, I must say.

Isaac offered to drive us home when it cleared up, but I said "No." I
wanted to settle Melissa before she got a chance to talk.

On the way home I said to her:

"I hope you won't mention this to anyone, Melissa. I don't mind
marrying Isaac, but I don't want people to know how it came about."

"Oh, I won't say anything about it," said Melissa, laughing a little
disagreeably.

"Because," I said, to clinch the matter, looking significantly at her
front hair as I said it, "I have something to tell, too."

Melissa will hold her tongue.

By the Rule of Contrary

"Look here, Burton," said old John Ellis in an ominous tone of voice,
"I want to know if what that old busybody of a Mary Keane came here
today gossiping about is true. If it is--well, I've something to say
about the matter! Have you been courting that niece of Susan Oliver's
all summer on the sly?"

Burton Ellis's handsome, boyish face flushed darkly crimson to the
roots of his curly black hair. Something in the father's tone roused
anger and rebellion in the son. He straightened himself up from the
turnip row he was hoeing, looked his father squarely in the face, and
said quietly,

"Not on the sly, sir, I never do things that way. But I have been
going to see Madge Oliver for some time, and we are engaged. We are
thinking of being married this fall, and we hope you will not object."

Burton's frankness nearly took away his father's breath. Old John
fairly choked with rage.

"You young fool," he spluttered, bringing down his hoe with such
energy that he sliced off half a dozen of his finest young turnip
plants, "have you gone clean crazy? No, sir, I'll never consent to
your marrying an Oliver, and you needn't have any idea that I will."

"Then I'll marry her without your consent," retorted Burton angrily,
losing the temper he had been trying to keep.

"Oh, will you