“I guess Millie can fix up a bed so the little lady can snatch a nap ’tween now and then,” Buckner offered. “Pitch in, folks! it ain’t much, but you’re welcome. Farmer, eh?” and his narrow eyes measured David’s splendid young body thoughtfully. “Aim to locate around here? Old man Webster, the man I rent this patch of ground from, is needing hands bad. He’s got a shack over the hill that he’d likely fix up for you if you ain’t got anything better in mind. Not quite as nice as this house—we got three rooms, counting this lean-to, and the shack I’m referrin’ to is only one room and a lean-to, but the little lady could fix it up real pretty if she’s got a knack that way, like Millie here has.” Sally almost choked on her mouthful of buckwheat cake. Were all her dreams of a home to come to this—or worse than this? One room and a lean-to! She felt suddenly ill and was swaying in her chair when David’s firm, big hand closed over hers that lay laxly on the table. “Thanks, Mr. Buckner,” she heard David’s voice faintly as from a great distance. “That’s mighty nice of you, but Sally and I have other plans.” Other plans? Sally smiled at him tremulously, adoringly, knowing full well that he had no plans at all beyond the all-important marriage ceremony. But after breakfast she lay down on the bed that Millie Buckner hastily “straightened” and drifted off to sleep, as happy as if her future were blue-printed and insured against poverty. For no matter what might be in store for her, there would always be David— They left the tenant farmer’s shack at half past eight o’clock, Millie and Jim Buckner and the baby waving them goodby. Buckner, ashamed of his ungraciousness, had refused to take the dollar, but David had wrapped the baby’s small sticky fingers about the folded bill. “Shall we go up the hill and see ‘Old Man’ Webster?” David asked gravely when they were in the lane leading to the highway. “Let’s” agreed Sally valiantly. “You’d really be willing to live—like that?” David marveled, his head jerking toward the dreary little shack they were leaving behind them. “If—if you were with me, it wouldn’t matter,” Sally answered seriously. “You’ll never have to!” David exulted, sweeping her to his breast and kissing her regardless of the fact that the Buckners were still watching them. “I promise you it will never be as bad as that, honey. But maybe Jim Buckner promised Millie the same thing,” he added in a troubled, uncertain voice. “I’ll never be sorry,” Sally promised huskily. They reached Canfield a few minutes after nine and had no difficulty in finding the county court house, for its grounds formed the “square” which was the hub of the small town. An old man pottering about the tobacco-stained halls with a mop and pail directed them to the marriage license bureau, without waiting for David to frame his embarrassed question.