Meantime, Jonathan went about his daily business, serene and happy, apparently oblivious of the fact that there was anything unusual in the decoration of his house. When his friends began to chaff him about the porch he seemed surprised, and guessed it was his privilege to paint his house any color he had a mind to, and there was no law ag'in' it; it was nobody's business but his own. Tastes in color differed, and there was no reason in the world why all houses should be painted alike. He liked variety himself, and nobody could say that scarlet wasn't a real cheerful color on a white house. Occasionally people who were driving by stopped to contemplate the porch; and the Durford Daily _Bugle_ devoted a long facetious paragraph to the matter. All of which Mrs. Burke knew very well, and it was having its effect on her nerves. The porch was the most conspicuous object in view from Hepsey's sitting-room windows, and every time she entered the room she found herself looking at the flaming terror with increasing exasperation. Verily, if Jonathan wanted revenge he was getting far more than he knew: the biter was badly bit. The matter came to a crisis one day, when Jonathan concluded a discussion with Mrs. Burke about the pasture fence. She burst out abruptly: "Say, Jonathan Jackson, why in the name of conscience don't you paint your porch a Christian color? It's simply awful, and I'm not goin' to sit in my house and have to look at it all winter." Jonathan did not seem greatly stirred, and replied in an absent-minded way: "Why don't you move your sittin' room over to the other side of the house, Hepsey? Then you wouldn't have to see it. Don't you like scarlet?" "No, I don't like it, and if you don't paint it out, I will." "Don't do nothin' rash, Hepsey. You know sometimes colors fade in the moonlight--some colors, that is. Maybe that scarlet porch'll turn to a light gray if you let it alone." Mrs. Burke could stand it no longer; so, laying down her work she exploded her pent-up wrath: "Jonathan Jackson, if that paint isn't gone before to-morrow, I'll come over and paint it myself." "Oh, that isn't necessary, Hepsey. And it might set people talkin'. But if you won't move your sittin'-room to the other side of your own house, why don't you move it over to my house? You wouldn't see so much of the red paint then." Hepsey snorted and spluttered in baffled rage. "Now, now, Hepsey," soothed Jonathan, "if that don't suit you, I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll paint it over myself on one condition!" "And what's that, I'd like to know?" "That you'll marry me," snapped Jonathan hungrily. Instead of resenting such bold tactics on the part of her suitor, Mrs. Burke gazed at him a long time with a rather discouraged look on her face.