“Never you mind. It's a secret,” and he stood back to look at her. She blushed as his eyes went downward to her perfect ankles. “It _is_ too short,” she said. “No, no, no! Not for me! You're mine now, little girl, _mine_--do you understand that?” “Yes,” she whispered, her mouth trembling, Again he laughed joyously. “Come on!” he cried, and he went into the kitchen and brought out an axe: “I'll cut wood for you.” She followed him out to the wood-pile and then she turned and went into the house. Presently the sound of his axe rang through the woods, and as he stooped to gather up the wood, he heard a creaking sound. June was drawing water at the well, and he rushed toward her: “Here, you mustn't do that.” She flashed a happy smile at him. “You just go back and get that wood. I reckon,” she used the word purposely, “I've done this afore.” Her strong bare arms were pulling the leaking moss-covered old bucket swiftly up, hand under hand--so he got the wood while she emptied the bucket into a pail, and together they went laughing into the kitchen, and while he built the fire, June got out the coffee-grinder and the meal to mix, and settled herself with the grinder in her lap. “Oh, isn't it fun?” She stopped grinding suddenly. “What would the neighbours say?” “We haven't any.” “But if we had!” “Terrible!” said Hale with mock solemnity. “I wonder if Uncle Billy is at home,” Hale trembled at his luck. “That's a good idea. I'll ride down for him while you're getting supper.” “No, you won't,” said June, “I can't spare you. Is that old horn here yet?” Hale brought it out from behind the cupboard. “I can get him--if he is at home.” Hale followed her out to the porch where she put her red mouth to the old trumpet. One long, mellow hoot rang down the river--and up the hills. Then there were three short ones and a single long blast again. “That's the old signal,” she said. “And he'll know I want him _bad_.” Then she laughed. “He may think he's dreaming, so I'll blow for him again.” And she did. “There, now,” she said. “He'll come.” It was well she did blow again, for the old miller was not at home and old Hon, down at the cabin, dropped her iron when she heard the horn and walked to the door, dazed and listening. Even when it came again she could hardly believe her ears, and but for her rheumatism, she would herself have started at once for Lonesome Cove. As it was, she ironed no more, but sat in the doorway almost beside herself with anxiety and bewilderment, looking down the road for the old miller to come home. Back the two went into the kitchen and Hale sat at the door watching June as she fixed the table and made the coffee and corn bread. Once only he disappeared and that was when suddenly a hen cackled, and with a shout of laughter he ran out to come back with a fresh egg. “Now, my lord!” said June, her hair falling over her eyes and her face flushed from the heat. “No,” said Hale. “I'm going to wait on you.”