“Both of us had jumped as if somebody'd touched off a bombshell under our main hatches. The windows of the dining room was right astern of us. We whirled round, and there was Effie. She'd been clearin' off one of the tables and there she stood, with the smashed pieces of an ice-cream platter in front of her, the melted cream sloppin' over her shoes, and her face lookin' like the picture of Lot's wife just turnin' to salt. Only Effie looked as if she enjoyed the turnin'. She never spoke nor moved, just stared after that buggy with her black eyes sparklin' like burnt holes in a blanket. “I was too astonished to say anything, but Jonadab had his eye on that smashed platter and HE had things to say, plenty of 'em. I walked off and left Effie playin' congregation to a sermon on the text 'Crockery costs money.' You'd think that ice-cream dish was a genuine ugly, nicked 'antique' wuth any city loon's ten dollars, instead of bein' only new and pretty fifty-cent china. I felt real sorry for the poor girl. “But I needn't have been. That evenin' I found her on the back steps, all Sunday duds and airs. Her hair had a wire friz on it, and her dress had Joseph's coat in Scriptur' lookin' like a mournin' rig. She'd have been real handsome--to a body that was color blind. “'My, Effie!' says I, 'you sartin do look fine to-night.' “'Yup,' she says, contented, 'I guess likely I do. Hope so, 'cause I'm wearin' all I've got. Say, Mr. Wingate,' says she, excited as a cat in a fit, 'did you see him?' “'Him?' says I. 'Who's him?' “'Why, HIM! The one the Seer said was comin'. The handsome, dark-complected feller I'm goin' to marry. The Butler one. That was him in the buggy this afternoon.' “I looked at her. I'd forgot all about the fool prophecy. “'Good land of love!' I says. 'You don't cal'late he's comin' to marry YOU, do you, just 'cause his name's Butler? There's ten thousand Butlers in the world. Besides, your particular one was slated to be high ranked and distinguished, and this specimen scrubs up the billiard-room floor and ain't no more distinguished than a poorhouse pig.' “'Ain't?' she sings out. 'Ain't distinguished? With all them beautiful curls, and rings on his fingers, and--' “'Bells on his toes? No!' says I, emphatic. 'Anyhow, he's signed for the v'yage already. He's Susannah Debs's steady, and they're off buggy ridin' together right now. And if she catches you makin' eyes at her best feller--Whew!' “Didn't make no difference. He was her Butler, sure. 'Twas Fate--that's what 'twas--Fate, just the same as in storybooks. She was sorry for poor Susannah and she wouldn't do nothin' mean nor underhanded; but couldn't I understand that 'twas all planned out for her by Providence and that everlastin' Seer? Just let me watch and see, that's all. “What can you do with an idiot like that? I walked off disgusted and left her. But I cal'lated to watch. I judged 'twould be more fun than any 'play-actin' show ever I took in.