d it, and Winfield created a diversion by
tipping over a vase of flowers. "He shan't," he whispered to Ruth, "I'll
be darned if he shall!"

"Ruth," said Aunt Jane, after a close scrutiny of Winfield, "if you'
relayin' out to marry that awkward creeter, what ain't accustomed to
a parlour, you'd better do it now, while him and the minister are both
here."

Winfield was willing, but Ruth said that one wedding at a time was
enough in any family, and the minister, pledged to secrecy, took his
departure. The bride cut the wedding cake and each solemnly ate a piece
of it. It was a sacrament, rather than a festivity.

When the silence became oppressive, Ruth suggested a walk.

"You will set here, Niece Ruth," remarked Aunt Jane, "until I have
changed my dress."

Uncle James sighed softly, as she went upstairs. "Well," he said,
"I'm merried now, hard and fast, and there ain't no help for it, world
without end."

"Cheer up, Uncle," said Winfield, consolingly, "it might be worse."

"It's come on me all of a sudden," he rejoined. "I ain't had no time to
prepare for it, as you may say. Little did I think, three weeks ago, as
I set in my little store, what was wuth four or five hundred dollars,
that before the month was out, I'd be merried. Me! Merried!" he
exclaimed, "Me, as never thought of sech!"

When Mrs. Ball entered, clad in sombre calico, Ruth, overcome by deep
emotion, led her lover into the open air. "It's bad for you to stay in
there," she said gravely, "when you are destined to meet the same fate."

"I've had time to prepare for it," he answered, "in fact, I've had more
time than I want."

They wandered down the hillside with aimless leisure, and Ruth stooped
to pick up a large, grimy handkerchief, with "C. W." in the corner.
"Here's where we were the other morning," she said.

"Blessed spot," he responded, "beautiful Hepsey and noble Joe! By what
humble means are great destinies made evident! You haven't said you were
glad to see me, dear."

"I'm always glad to see you, Mr. Winfield," she replied primly.

"Mr. Winfield isn't my name," he objected, taking her into his arms.

"Carl," she whispered shyly, to his coat collar.

"That isn't all of it."

"Carl--dear--" said Ruth, with her face crimson.

"That's more like it. Now let's sit down--I've brought you something and
you have three guesses."

"Returned manuscript?"

"No, you said they were all in."

"Another piece of Aunt Jane's wedding cake?"