She did not look at the latter as she took her seat in the buggy. She had made up her mind and there was no going back. She had often boasted that she could make a man propose to her if she wished him to do so. In this instance she did wish it and every art of which she was mistress was brought to bear upon the unsuspecting Craig, who would have been less than a man had he been insensible to her charms. Either the rapid motion or the excitement, or the brandy gave an additional brilliancy to her complexion, and her eyes had never been more beautiful than they were when she told Craig how much she had enjoyed the summer, thanks to him and his kindness, and said this was probably their last drive together, as she and her mother might be gone before he returned, but she should never forget Ridgefield,—never. Perhaps it was the wind which blew a little chilly down the hill they were descending, and perhaps it was real grief which brought a tear to her eyes as she lifted them to Craig’s face and then dropped them quickly, as if ashamed of her emotion. Craig had fully made up his mind to ask her to be his wife, but was going to wait till he had decided upon words suited to so delicate a subject. Perhaps it would be better to write when he was in Boston, he thought. Yes, on the whole it would be better, as he could arrange and re-arrange what he wanted to say, so as not to shock her in any way. But all his pre-arranged plans were set aside by Helen’s methods, and before he knew what he was doing he had asked her to be his wife and she had accepted him, with a protest that she was not worthy of him,—that if he knew her as she knew herself he would not wish for her, but if he were prepared to take her with all her faults, she was his, and would try to make him a good wife. He did not know that she had any faults, except that she might be something of a flirt, and this she could not help. He was willing to take her as she was and felt himself very happy, while she tried to believe herself as happy as a girl ought to be when engaged to a man like Craig Mason. She had been wooed by many suitors, but never in this quiet, tame fashion, and she laughed to herself as she thought of the contrast. Some had knelt at her feet with passionate words of love, and two hot-headed, brainless ones had threatened suicide if she refused them, and then had been married within six months. All this was very exciting and exhilarating to one of her temperament, and very different from Craig’s style. He had not even touched her hand,—possibly because at the moment her final yes was spoken a baby-cart came suddenly through a gate and both his hands were occupied in managing Dido, whose one fault was fear of a baby-cart, and who started to run furiously. When she had become quiet and they were ascending a hill he said abruptly, but laughingly, “If rumor is correct, I am not the first who has proposed to you?”