They could hear the crackling of the snow under his heavy tread as he walked away. "O Milly, what is it? what is it? what did he bring it for? had he been to the post-office?" the little girls were asking with eager curiosity. Mildred turned to Claudina. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment, then burst into a simultaneous hearty laugh. "Did ever you see such a comical performance?" "Never! It's addressed to you of course?" "Yes." Seizing a candle, laughing and blushing, "Come, help me to read it," Mildred said. "We'll go up stairs where we won't be disturbed." "Mayn't we go too? mayn't we know what your letter's about?" pleaded the little girls as the older ones were hurrying away. "No, no! tisn't the sort for children like you to know about," laughed the sister. "Be good and stay here. We won't be gone long; and some day, perhaps, I'll tell you what it says." They hurried through the kitchen where Miss Hunsinger was vigorously setting things to rights, up the crooked stairway and on into Aunt Wealthy's room, fastened the door and proceeded to examine the missive. It was an offer to Miss Mildred Keith, of the heart, hand and fortune of the writer, Nicholas Ransquattle, who denominated himself her devoted worshiper and slave, and addressed her as an angel and the loveliest and sweetest of created beings. The girls giggled over it at first, but at length Mildred threw it down in supreme disgust. "Such stuff and nonsense! it's perfectly sickening! I'm anything but an angel; especially when I lose my temper. And I believe I'm losing it now; for I feel insulted by an offer from such a conceited booby!" "Somebody's coming!" exclaimed Claudina. "Yes; Rupert. I know his step. Well, Ru, what is it?" as the boy rapped lightly on the door. "Why before you answer that letter and accept the fellow, let me tell you something." Mildred threw open the door. "Who told you I had one?" "The children told me about old Nick bringing you a letter," he answered laughing, but looking angry too, "and it's easy enough to guess the subject; particularly since I heard a bit of news over yonder at the smithy. Gote Lightcap says he heard him--old Nick--boasting this morning, before several young men, that he was going to marry Mildred Keith." For a minute or more Mildred did not speak; she had probably never felt so angry in all her life. "The conceited puppy!" she cried at last, "wouldn't I like to take some of it out of him!" "Good for you!" cried Rupert clapping his hands. "I knew you'd be mad. And wouldn't I like to horsewhip him for his impudence?" "But it isn't right," said Mildred, already cooling down a little and ashamed of her outburst. "You couldn't thrash him, Ru, but instead you shall, if you will, have the pleasure of carrying him my answer." "Tell me what it is first."