own she sat, and away
she went spinning, and singing with the best of them. Suddenly Nancy
upset her wheel, Plunkett gaily threatened her, and away she ran, with
Plunkett chasing after her. In a minute they had disappeared, and
Martha was left alone with Lionel.

"Nancy--Julia--where are you? here! don't leave me--" Martha cried.

"Have no fear, gentle girl," Lionel said, detaining her. "There is no
one who will hurt you." Martha regarded him with some anxiety for a
moment, then became reassured.

"No--I will not be afraid," she thought. "This stranger has a kind way
with him. True, they are strange in their ways--to me--but then I am
strange in my ways--to them."

"Come! I'll promise never to be impatient with you nor to scold you if
you do not get things right. I am sure you will do your best," he
gently insisted, trying to put her at her ease. "To tell the truth--I
am desperately in love with you, Martha."

"Oh, good gracious--it is--so sudden----" she gasped, looking about
for some chance of escape. "Don't, sir! I assure you I am the worst
sort of servant. I have deceived you: as a matter of fact, I know
almost nothing of housework or farm work--I----"

"Well, at least, you know how to laugh and while the time away. Never
mind about the work--we shall get on; we'll let the work go. Only sing
for me--come, let us be gay."

"Alas! I do not feel gay----"

"Then sing something that is not gay. Sing what you will--but sing,"
he urged. He was more in love with her every moment, and not knowing
what else to do Martha sang--"'Tis the Last Rose of Summer!"

By the time the song was sung, Lionel had quite lost his head.

"Martha, since the moment I first saw thee, I have loved thee madly.
Be my wife and I will be your willing slave--you may count on me to
do the spinning and everything else, if only you will be my wife. I'll
raise thee to my own station." This was really too much. Martha looked
at him in amazement.

"Raise me--er--" In spite of herself she had to laugh. Then, with a
feeling of tenderness growing in her heart, she felt sorry for him.

"I am sorry to cause you pain, but really you don't know what you are
saying. I----" And at this crisis Nancy and Plunkett came in, Plunkett
raising a great to-do because Nancy had been hiding successfully from
him, in the kitchen.

"She hasn't been cooking," he explained; "simply hiding--and I can't
abide idle ways--never could--now what is wrong with you two?" h