his arms around
her, kissing her! And they never saw nor heard me, no more'n if they
were deaf and blind!"

Sam gave a tremendous whistle and then went off into a shout of
laughter whose echoes reached even to the gloom of the front porch and
the ears of the lovers. But they did not know he was laughing at them
and would not have cared if they had. They were too happy for that.

There was a wedding that fall and Anne Stockard was the bride. When
she was safely his, Jerome confessed all and was graciously forgiven.

"But it was kind of mean to Harriet," said Anne rebukingly, "to go
with her and get her talked about and then drop her as you did. Don't
you think so yourself, Jerome?"

Her husband's eyes twinkled.

"Well, hardly that. You see, Harriet's engaged to that Johnson fellow
out west. 'Tain't generally known, but I knew it and that's why I
picked on her. I thought it probable that she'd be willing enough to
flirt with me for a little diversion, even if I was old. Harriet's
that sort of a girl. And I made up my mind that if that didn't fetch
it nothing would and I'd give up for good and all. But it did, didn't
it, Anne?"

"I should say so. It was horrid of you, Jerome--but I daresay it's
just as well you did or I'd likely never have found out that I
couldn't get along without you. I did feel dreadful. Poor Octavia
could tell you I was as cross as X. How did you come to think of it,
Jerome?"

"A fellow had to do something," said Jerome oracularly, "and I'd have
done most anything to get you, Anne, that's a fact. And there it
was--courting fifteen years and nothing to show for it. I dunno,
though, how I did come to think of it. Guess it was a sort of
inspiration. Anyhow, I've got you and that's what I set out to do in
the beginning."

Young Si

Mr. Bentley had just driven into the yard with the new summer boarder.
Mrs. Bentley and Agnes were peeping at her from behind the parlour
curtains with the keen interest that they--shut in by their restricted
farm life--always felt in any visitor from the outside world lying
beyond their boundary of purple misted hills.

Mrs. Bentley was a plump, rosy-cheeked woman with a motherly smile.
Agnes was a fair, slim schoolgirl, as tall as her mother, with a sweet
face and a promise of peach blossom prettiness in the years to come.
The arrival of a summer boarder was a great event in her quiet life.

"Ain't she pretty?" whispered Mrs. Bentley admiringly, as the