Cicely's red lip curled in scorn as she applied herself vigorously
to her plaque, where the inevitable girl with muff and umbrella was
stumbling into a snowdrift.

Hezekiah picked up the widow's daily paper which, by the way, he largely
depended on for the news. Silence reigned for a while, save for the
rustle of the sheet. The click-clack of the widow's knitting needles,
and the rapid plying of Cicely's brush, were varied at last by the girl
surreptitiously pulling a note out of her jaunty apron pocket.

As she read it a smile broke over the dimpled features, and in a moment
more she pushed the table from her and left the room. Swiftly she sped
to the big apple tree where her trystings were held with Rufus, her
playmate and lover.

Hezekiah slowly raised his head, and laying down the paper, said
thoughtfully: "'Pears like the gal gits skittisher every day. Do you
reckon she'll ever come to like me?"

"Why, I dunno why she wouldn't," ventured the widow with an encouraging
smirk.

"Well, she don't seem to, no way." Then looking suspiciously through the
window. "Where's she gone to?"

"Oh, nowheres I reckon," said the mother soothingly, "nowheres in
partic'ler. She's allers around."

Another silence, during which the visitor carefully noted the land,
stock and crop items in the paper, then took his leave. But not till he
had cast a lingering look behind and said: "This is about the
comfortablest place a feller could drop into, in my opinion."

It was some minutes after when the truant Cicely re-entered the little
keeping-room, her cheeks and eyes bright with happiness.

"Oh, mother, wish me joy! Rufus has asked me to be his wife."

"Mercy on us, Cicely!" exclaimed the widow in a sort of terror, "and you
want to marry him?"

"Of course I do," proudly said the girl; "and I mean to marry him."

"Oh, Cicely, my child! and what will Mr. Lightus do--him that's been
comin' here so patient, off an' on?"

"Mr. Lighthouse!" disdainfully echoed the girl. "Do you suppose I would
have that old goose--old enough to be my grandfather!"

"Old goose! Fie, Cicely, to talk so disrespectful of your pa's best
friend. He's well-to-do an' has got the finest place in the county.
Think how nice we'd be fixed, child. We'd never have to work no more,"
and the widow sighed as the girl looked into her face for the
congratulations she expected in vain.

"Well, mother, I can't help it. I am willing to work and so is Rufus. He
is