Ira nodded. He was off his horse in a twinkling, but made his way into the house with difficulty, being frequently intercepted by those ready to welcome him back and to ask questions. Entering the door, the first person he saw was Cyrus Sparks, who was in high good humor. Two hundred dollars in pocket, and ten chances out of a hundred that he would have a rich son-in-law! The old man stood before the fire beaming a welcome to the eager company. His jaw dropped as Ira elbowed his way to him, but, remembering that all the chances were taken, he recovered himself and made an attempt at playing his part of genial host. “Well, Iry,” he exclaimed, “didn’t expect to see you. I reckon you’ve got a right smart of soldiering stories to tell us, ain’t ye?” But Ira did not do more than give him a brief greeting and immediately pushed through the crowd to where Louisa, with back turned to the room, stood surrounded by a covey of laughing girls. There was no hesitation in Ira’s manner now. He laid his heavy hand on the girl’s shoulder. She turned and went from white to red. “Ira!” she exclaimed. “You’ve come.” “Yes, I’ve come. I got here quick as I could. I want a word with you.” He drew her through the door into the lean-to, and further, to the lot at the back of the house. “I got yer stran’ o’ ha’r,” he said. “It’s here,” he tapped the spot over his heart. “I want to know if there’s any way out of this. I’ll carry ye off if yer willin’; this minute, if ye say so. Yer mine, chanst or no chanst, it’s nothin’ but sure fer me. Will ye go with me, Lou? Ye know without my tellin’ ye that I ain’t never wanted to marry no other woman, an’ I’ll treat ye as good as I know how.” “I believe that,” answered Louisa. “There is another way, I think, Ira. If it fails I’ll go with you. I’d rather have you than any man in the world. Bud said--he--did he tell you?” “About the number? Yes, mine’s twenty-seven.” “Twenty-seven, twenty-seven,” she repeated the number. “Write it down for me.” “And his is twenty-nine.” “I don’t care what his is. I only want yours. If I fail, Ira, I will give you a chance to speak to me and we’ll get away before any one suspects. Oh, I thought you would never come.” All her endurance of the long suspense was in her cry. Ira gave a quick glance around. Too many were watching them; he did not dare follow out his inclination. “Pore little gal. Pore little Lou,” he murmured, his big hand clasping a fold of her frock. “I’ll try to make up to ye fer all this. God knows I’ll be good to ye. I ain’t so much of a saint, Lou, but I’ve love ye mortal hard all this time.” “I have always believed in you, Ira,” whispered Louisa, “and I knew you’d come if you could, but it was coming so near the end and I was beginning to be afraid that something had happened.”