"Can thee not ask?" "Nay: I have tried, but I fail. I never asked such a thing before, and, belike, thee has." "Necessarily," said he. Then he asked Barbara. "Does thee quite approve friend Biddle?" asked she. "Necessarily," he answered as before. "Then, Samuel Biddle, I will be thy wife," said she. "Thank thee, friend Barbara," I said, and shook hands with her father. "Thee may shake hands with Barbara," said he. And I did. I fear me that she looked with a less demure look into my face as I did so: I think she might have cared to have me hold her hand a little longer than I did. But her father said, "Thee has attended to _thy_ business: now bear me out in _mine_. What is thy income? when can I see thy father and mother?" It was most gratifying on next First Day to go to meeting and sit beside friend Hicks. Far over on the women's side I think I knew which woman was Barbara. And meeting was stiller than ever, and more like the Lord's meaning of holiness; or it was the stillness upon my spirit that needed no divine Feet to tread it down and say, "Peace, be still!" I had reached the peace beyond understanding saving to those who likewise possess it: something that was greater to me than myself had come to me and called itself all my own. There was a most able discourse from friend Broomall that day, but I heard so little of it I have scarce the right to criticise some of his comments. The windows were all open, and the sound of the breeze that flapped the casement and the far-away lowing of a cow were very pleasant--indeed, almost grievingly pleasant. And butterflies came in and out, and were bright and soothing. Friend Hicks was soothed and slept profoundly all the while: he awoke and said that friend Broomall had been most cogent in his reasoning. I, who had heard so little, said, "Verily." After meeting, Barbara walked home, and I walked with her. I doubt if I ever cared for flowers and blue skies and little singing birds as I did on that placid First Day--my own First Day! "Thee was most attentive during meeting, Samuel Biddle," said she. "Thank thee. So was thee," said I. "How does thee know?" "I fear I watched thee." "Thee might have been better employed." "How did thee know that _I_ was attentive?" "Like thee, I think I watched thee." "Thank thee, Barbara Hicks." "The same to thee, Samuel Biddle." I think all this made me most kindly disposed toward the whole world. We reached home shortly, and Barbara poured tea for me during dinner-time, and made it very sweet--sweeter than I had ever accustomed myself to take tea, though I deemed it more than admirable. After dinner friend Hicks said the flies were troublous that time of the day. We were on the porch, friend Hicks, his daughter and myself. I suggested that he might be less troubled did he cover his face with his handkerchief.