Her efforts to avoid him had been persistent and successful; but whether dictated by a spirit of mischief, which finds delight in tantalising the ardent swain, or from a mere desire to enjoy a little flirtation,—by some designated "harmless," but which at the best is dangerous and should be discouraged by the sex,—Barton felt at a loss to determine. Shakespeare says— "... Where love reigns, disturbing Jealousy Doth call himself Affection’s sentinel." But as there did not happen to be a second possible candidate for Mary’s favours at present on the Ranch, there was an entire absence of employment for such a guard. That was a foe of whom he had no dread. The week prior to the coming wedding, Mrs. Ranger had determined to spend a day in town, making some necessary purchases; Tom was accordingly ordered to have the buggy ready early on the day the farmer had agreed to drive her in. When Barton heard this, he thought he saw the opportunity offering he had been waiting for. Leaving the fields sooner than usual, he marched straight up to the house, where he had the good fortune to find Mary seated alone. "At last, Mary!" he said. "What’s at last?" she asked quite innocently. "Why, do you know how hard I’ve tried to see you, and what a many times you have refused me." "Well, why keep on coming? I’m sure I never asked you to." "You know why, Mary." "You seem in a dreadful hurry," she added sharply. "Not so much in a hurry, Mary, as anxious to know your answer." "I’d much rather you were not so pressing," she replied. "But you promised to let me have your reply to my question in a week." "No! I only promised to see what I could do in that period, when you urged that a month was too long a time to take for consideration. There are circumstances which alter cases, you know." "Do such circumstances exist in my case?" he asked. "Yes, I think they do," she replied, a little nervous tremor visible in her tone. "I’m sorry if it is so." "Besides, I’m not at all anxious to give up my liberty," she added laughingly. "I don’t ask you to be my slave, Mary, but my wife," he replied with some emphasis. "And in too many instances there is little difference between the two states." "Perhaps that is too true. And my difficulty is how to convince you that it will not be so in your case, if I can help it." "Every man is good at promising, and you know the homely proverb about ’Promises being like pie-crust’?" "Do I look like a deceiver, Mary?" "I’m sure I can’t tell—I’ve not seen enough of you to know." "Is that one of the circumstances which you said altered cases?" "Well—yes; or if it isn’t it ought to be, as it’s a matter of some importance." "What are the other circumstances you referred to?" he inquired. "Well, I suppose you have not forgotten that when I came out here it was with the intention of being married to one of my cousins, who was with us?"