ght call 'em the `Lower Sliprails,'
but I calls 'em Buckolts' Gate! They lead to'r'ds Buckolts', don't they?
Hey? Them other sliprails"--jerking his arms in the direction of the
upper paddock "them theer other sliprails that leads outer Reid's lane I
calls Reid's Sliprails. I don't know nothing about no upper or lower, or
easter or wester, or any other la-di-dah names you like to call 'em."

"Oh, uncle," cried Mary, trembling like a leaf, "why didn't you explain
this before? Why didn't you tell us?"

"What cause have I got to tell any of you everything I sez or does or
thinks? It 'ud take me all me time. Ain't you got any more brains than
Ryan's bull, any of you? Hey!--You've got heads, but so has cabbages.
Explain! Why, if the world wasn't stuffed so full of jumped-up fools
there'd be never no need for explainin'."

Mary left the table.

"What is it, Mary?" cried Aunt Emma.

"I'm going across to Bertha," said Mary, putting on her hat with
trembling hands. "It was me Uncle Abel saw. I had Bertha's cape on that
night."

"Oh, Uncle Abel," cried Aunt Emma, "whatever have you done?"

"Well," said Uncle Abel, "why didn't she get the writin's as I told her?
It's to be hoped she won't make such a fool of herself next time."

Half an hour later, or thereabouts, Mary sat on Bertha Buckolt's bed,
with Bertha beside her and Bertha's arm round her, and they were crying
and laughing by turns.

"But-but-why didn't you _tell_ me it was Jim?" said Mary.

"Why didn't you tell me it was Harry, Mary?" asked Bertha. "It would
have saved all this year of misery.

"I didn't see Harry Dale at all that night," said Bertha. "I was--I was
crying when Jim left me, and when Harry came along I slipped behind
a tree until he was past. And now, look here, Mary, I can't marry Jim
until he steadies down, but I'll give him another chance. But, Mary, I'd
sooner lose him than you."

Bertha walked home with Mary, and during the afternoon she took Jim
aside and said:

"Look here, Jim, I'll give you another chance--for a year. Now I want
you to ride into town and send a telegram to Harry Dale. How long would
it take him to get here?"

"He couldn't get here before New Year," said Jim.

"That will do," said Bertha, and Jim went to catch his horse. Next day
Harry's reply came: "Coming"

ACT IV

New Year's Eve. The dance was at Buckolts' this year, but Bertha didn't
dance much; she was down by the gate most of the time with little Mary