The gate latch clicked. Again Tim appeared from the maze of corn and stood shading his eyes and gazing toward the house. Now the footfalls were light. And Mary came! But how could I look careless and dashing, with Josiah Nummler in the chair I had fixed so close to mine? Rising, I bowed as awkwardly as possible. I insisted on her taking my own rocker, while I fixed myself on the floor with a pillar for a back-rest. Not a word did the girl say, but she sat there clutching the little basket she held in her lap. "Eggs?" inquired Josiah. She shook her head, but did not enlighten him. "I should judge your hens ain't layin' well, figurin' on the size of the basket," said the old man, ignoring her denial. "There's a peculiarity about the hens in this walley--it's somethin' I've noticed ever since I was a boy. I've spoke to my missus about it and she has noticed the same thing since she was a girl--so it must be a peculiarity. The hens in this walley allus lays most when the price of eggs is lowest." This was a serious problem. It is not usual for Josiah to be serious, either, for he is generally out of breath or laughing. Now he was wagging his head solemnly, pulling his beard, and over and over repeating, "But hens is contrary--hens is contrary." Mary contrived to drop the basket to her side, out of the old man's sight. "Speakin' of hens," he went on. "My missus was sayin' just yesterday how as----" Tim was shouting. He was calling something to me. I could not make out what it was, for the wind-was rustling the corn-shocks, but I arose and feigned to listen. "It's Tim," said I. "He's calling to you, Josiah. It's something about your red heifer." "Red heifer--I haven't no red heifer," returned the old man. "Did I say heifer? I should have said hog--excuse me," said I, blandly. "But I have killed all my hogs," Josiah replied, undisturbed. Tim shouted again, making a trumpet of his hands. To this day I don't know what he was calling to us, but when this second message reached Josiah's ears, it concerned some cider we had, that Tim was anxious to know if he would care for. At the suggestion Josiah's face became very earnest, and a minute later he was hurrying down the field to the spot where Tim's hat and Tip Pulsifer's shaggy hair showed above the wreck of a corn-shock. "How could you hear what Tim was saying?" Mary asked. It was almost the first word she had spoken to me, and I was in my chair again, and she was where I had planned so cunningly to have her. "I know my brother's voice," I answered gravely. "I couldn't make out a word," said she, "but it isn't like him to let an old man go tottering over fields to see him. He would have come up here." "I guess he would." There was a twinkle in her eyes and I knew it was useless to dissemble. "Tim and I are different. I never hesitate to use strategy to get my chair, even at the expense of a feeble old man." "How gallant you are," she said with a touch of scorn.