owing
she would refuse to fight if confronted by more than one. And you
know what happened to her."

All that afternoon they spent in the city of the field. The life
of the birds in the great maple interested them most of all. In
the evening he played checkers with Polly and told her of school
life in the village of Hillsborough--the work and play of the
students.

"Oh! I do wish I could go," said she, presently, with a deep sigh.

He thought of the eighty-two dollars in his pocket and longed to
tell her all that he was planning for her sake.

Mrs. Vaughn went above stairs with the children.

Then Trove took Polly's hand. They looked deeply into each other's
eyes a moment, both smiling.

"It's your move," said she, smiling as her glance fell.

He moved all the checkers.

There came a breath of silence, and a great surge of happiness that
washed every checker off the board, and left the two with flushed
faces. Then, as Mrs. Vaughn was coming downstairs, the checkers
began to rattle into position.

"I won," said he, as the door opened.

"But he didn't play fair," said Folly.

"Children, I'm afraid you're playing more love than checkers," said
the widow. "You're both too young to think of marriage."

Those two looked thoughtfully at the checkerboard, Polly's chin
resting on her hand. She had begun to smile.

"I'm sure Mr. Trove has no such thought in his head," said she,
still looking at the board.

"You're mother is right; we're both very young," said Trove.

"I believe you're afraid of her," said Polly, looking up at him
with a smile.

"I'm only thinking of your welfare," said Mrs. Vaughn, gently.
"Young love should be stored away, and if it keeps, why, then it's
all right."

"Like preserves!" said Polly, soberly, as if she were not able to
see the point.

Against the protest of Polly and her mother, Trove went to sleep in
the sugar shanty, a quarter of a mile or so back in the woods. On
his first trip with the drove he had developed fondness for
sleeping out of doors. The shanty was a rude structure of logs,
with an open front. Tunk went ahead, bearing a pine torch, while
Trove followed, the blanket over his shoulder. They built a
roaring fire in front of the shanty and sat down to talk.

"How have you been?" Trove inquired.

"Like t' killed me there at the ol' maids'."

"Were they rough with you?"

"No," said Tunk, gloomily.

"What then?"

"Hoss."

"Kicked?" was Trove's