“All I can say is that I'll decide by Friday night,” she repeated. “And if I go I shall be ready. Good-night, Nelson; I can't stay out longer.” He walked with her as far as he could safely do so in the direction of the farm-house, and then they parted without further words. “She'll go--the dear little thing,” he said to himself, enthusiastically, as he walked through the orchard. When he had climbed over the fence he paused, looked back, and shrugged his shoulders. An unpleasant thrill passed over him. It was the very spot on which he had met Pole Baker that night and had been so soundly reprimanded for his indiscretion in quitting Nathan Porter's premises in such a stealthy manner. Suddenly Floyd pressed his hand to his waistcoat-pocket and drew out a tiny object that glittered in the moonlight. “The engagement ring!” he exclaimed, in a tone of deep disappointment; “and I forgot to give it to her. What a fool I was, when she's never had a diamond in her life! Well”--he looked hesitatingly towards the farm-house--“it wouldn't do to call her back now. I'll keep it till Friday night. Like an idiot, I forgot, too, in my excitement, to tell her where we are to be married--that is, if she will go; but she won't desert me--I can trust her. She will be my wife--_my wife!_” XXXI THE next morning, after breakfast, Mrs. Porter told her husband to harness the horse and hitch him to the buggy. “I've got some butter ready to sell,” she explained, “and some few things to buy.” “You'll gain lots by it,” Nathan sneered, as he reluctantly proceeded to do her bidding. “In the fust place it will take yore time fer half a day, the hoss's time fer half a day, an' the wear an' tear on the buggy will amount to more than all you git fer the butter. But that's the way women calculate. They can't see an inch 'fore the'r noses.” “I can see far enough before mine to hear you grumbling at dinner about the coffee being out,” she threw back at him; “something you, with all your foresight, forgot yesterday.” “Huh, I reckon the old lady did hit me that pop!” Nathan admitted to himself as he walked away. “Fust thing I know I'll not be able to open my mouth--women are gittin' so dern quick on the trigger--an', by gum, I _did_ forgit that coffee, as necessary as the stuff is to my comfort.” When Porter brought the horse and buggy around a few minutes later his wife was ready on the porch with her pail of neatly packed butter. Cynthia came to the door, but her mother only glanced at her coldly as she took up her pail and climbed into the vehicle and grasped the reins. Reaching Mayhew & Floyd's store, she went in and showed the butter to Joe Peters, who stood behind one of the counters. “I want eighteen cents a pound,” she said. “If towns-people won't pay it, they can't eat _my_ butter. Butter for less than that is white and puffy and full of whey.”