This morning she was quite busy, according to her usual custom, and it was not long after I sat down to read that her cheerful voice called me to partake of the morning meal. It was not an elaborate one, but it was an Idaho production almost entirely. The rolled oats were grown, rolled and prepared in Co-opolis; the flour, maple syrup, butter and even the sugar were made in Idaho, and none better were ever made elsewhere. The sugar was the product of the beet-sugar factory at Laselle, which had been established by the National Brotherhood two years before. The salt was manufactured by our Association, and this morning we had plates which were among the first productions of a new industry added by the Department of Manufactures just two months previously. The silver on the table was some which I had inherited from my mother and was highly prized. The oak extension table, sideboard and chairs in the dining room also represented our Co-opolitan labor. Aunt Lydia sat at the table with me and served the coffee. “Willie,” said she, as she reached me the cream, “I guess I won’t go to-day. I promised Mrs. Cressy that I would spend a day with her, and she has a holiday; so, if you have no objection, I will go there instead of the lake.” “Why, Aunt Lydia,” I exclaimed, “what has made you change so suddenly? Of course you must go with us. Mr. Fuller and Joe Preston are all going and if you don’t go I’ll simply have to ride alone. You must go.” “No, Willie.” She always called me Willie. “No,” she declared again. “The Prestons have company just from Boston, a Miss Woodberry; I met her yesterday. She seems to be a very nice young lady and I want you to go with her and show her the valley.” “Why, aunt,” I replied, “I will do nothing of the kind. I want you to go and have made my arrangements accordingly.” But my aunt was obdurate and all I could say was unavailing. The truth was she was anxious that I should marry and was, very much to my annoyance at times, always contriving to throw me in the way of young ladies, hoping that I would meet my fate. I suspected that this was another scheme of that kind and felt provoked. If I could have found a good excuse I would have canceled my engagement and remained at home. But no excuse presented itself. What was even worse, as I thought, my aunt had gone so far as to invite Miss Woodberry to take her place in the party, which that young lady as a guest of the Prestons, who were also going, very naturally and promptly accepted. Of course I could not scold the dear old meddling lady, and so, although much put out, I philosophically submitted to the inevitable.