I said as much, one day, to Nick. "You've turned the child's head," said he, "with your kingly benefactions. You have but to woo her if you want her to wife." "Wife!" said I, scared o' the very word. "What the devil shall I do with a wife, who am contented as I am? Also, it is not in her mind, nor in mine, who now are pleasant friends and comrades.... Also," I added, "love is a disorder and begets a brood of jealousies to plague a man to death! I am calm and contented. I am enamoured of no woman, and do not desire to be so.... Although, when I pass thirty, and possess estates, doubtless I shall desire an heir." "And go a-hunting a mother for this same heir among the gilt-hats of New York," said Nick. "Which is your destiny, John Drogue, for like seeks like, and a yeoman is born, not made;--and wears his rings in his ears----" "Have done!" said I impatiently. "I _am_ of the soil! I love it! I love plowed land and corn and the smell of stables! I love my log house and my glebe and the smell of English grass!" "But a servant is a servant, John Drogue, and the mistress of your roof shall have walked in silk before she ever puts on homespun and pattens for love of you! Lord, man! I am I, and you are you! And we mate not with the same breed o' birds. No! For mine shall be a ground-chick of sober hue and feather; and your sweetheart shall have bright wings and own the air for a home. "That is already written: 'each after its kind.' So God send you your rainbow lady from the clouds, and give you a pretty heir in due event; and as for me, if I guess right, my mate to be hath never fluttered higher than her garret nor worn a shred of silk till she sews her wedding dress!" * * * * * On the last day of March maple sap ran. Nick and I set out that day to seek a sugar-bush for the new mistress of Summer House. Snow was soft and our snow-shoes scarce bore us, but we floundered along the hard woods, and presently discovered a grove of stately maples. All that day we were busy in the barn making buckets out o' staves stored there; and on the first day of April we waded the softening snow to the new sugar-bush, tapped the trees, set our spouts and buckets, and also drew thither a kettle and dry wood against future need. I remember that the day was clear and warm, where, in the sun, the barn doors stood open and the chickens ventured out to scratch about, where the sun had melted the snow. All day long our cock was a-crowing and a-courting; the south wind came warm with spring and fluttered the wash which Penelope was hanging out to dry and whiten under soft, blue skies. In pattens she tripped about the slushy yard, her thick, bright hair pegged loosely, and her child's bosom and arms as white as the snow she stepped on.