“Why, Sally, deary,” said he, “that's my case, too; and I seemed to feel it in my bones that we was to be a pair; only, you know, I had to get a foothold first. I couldn't come to you with empty hands--though, faith! there's not much to speak of in 'em!” “Never mind that, Mark,--I'm _so_ glad you want me!” And indeed she was; why should she not, therefore, say so? “There's no need o' broken sixpences, or true-lovers' knots, I guess,” said Mark, giving her another kiss. “I'm a plain-spoken fellow, and when I say I want you for my wife, Sally, I mean it. But we mustn't be settin' here, with the row unhusked; that'll never do. See if I don't make the ears spin! And I guess you can help me a little now, can't you?” With a jolly laugh, Mark picked up the corn-cutter and swung it above the next shock. In another instant it would have fallen, but a loud shriek burst out from the bundled stalks, and Joe Fairthorn crept forth on his hands and knees. The lovers stood petrified. “Why, you young devil!” exclaimed Mark, while the single word “JOE!” which came from Sally's lips, contained the concentrated essence of a thousand slaps. “Don't--don't!” whimpered Joe. “I'll not tell anybody, indeed I wont!” “If you do,” threatened Mark, brandishing the corn-cutter, “it isn't your legs I shall cut off, but your head, even with the shoulders. What were you doin' in that shock?” “I wanted to hear what you and Sally were savin' to each other. Folks said you two was a-courtin',” Joe answered. The comical aspect of the matter suddenly struck Mark, and he burst into a roar of laughter. “Mark, how can you?” said Sally, bridling a little. “Well,--it's all in the fam'ly, after all. Joe, tarnation scamp as he is, is long-headed enough to keep his mouth shut, rather than have people laugh at his relations--eh, Joe?” “I said I'd never say a word,” Joe affirmed, “and I won't. You see if I even tell Jake. But I say, Mark, when you and Sally get married, will you be my uncle?” “It depends on your behavior,” Mark gravely answered, seating himself to husk. Joe magnanimously left the lovers, and pitched over the third shock ahead, upon which he began to husk with might and main, in order to help them out with their task. By the time the outside row was squared, the line had reached the bottom of the slope, where the air was chill, although the shadows of the forest had shifted from the field. Then there was a race among the huskers for the fence, the girls promising that he whose row was first husked out, should sit at the head of the table, and be called King of the Corn-field. The stalks rustled, the cobs snapped, the ears fell like a shower of golden cones, and amid much noise and merriment, not only the victor's row but all the others were finished, and Farmer Fairthorn's field stood husked from end to end.