“All right, here goes. Now, you are all settin’ about the same distance from the pile, an’ you’ve got an equal chance. Now, the fust man or woman who finds a red ear of corn must choose a partner to work with, an’, furthermore, it shall be the duty o’ the man to escort the gal home, an’, in addition to that, the winnin’ man shall be entitled to kiss any gal in the crowd, an’ she hereby pledges herself to submit graceful. It’s a bang-up good rule, fer them that want to be kissed kin take a peep at the ear ’fore it’s shucked, an’ throw it to any man they select, an’ them that don’t kin hope fer escape from sech an awful fate by blind luck.” “I think myself that it would be an awful fate to be kissed by a man you didn’t care for,” laughed Mrs. Baker. “Pole has made his rules to suit the men better than the women.” “The second rule is this,” added Pole, with a smile, “an’ that is, that whoever finds a red ear, man or woman, I git to kiss my wife.” “Good, that’s all right!” exclaimed Floyd, and everybody laughed as they set to work. Pole sat down near Floyd, and filled and lighted his pipe. “I used to think everything was fair in a game whar gals was concerned,” he said in an undertone. “I went to a shuckin’ once whar they had these rules, an’ I got on to exactly what I see you are on to.” “Me? What do you mean?” asked Floyd. “Why, you sly old dog, you are not shuckin’ more than one ear in every three you pick up. You are lookin’ to see ef the silk is dark. You have found out that a red ear always has dark silk.” Floyd laughed. “Don’t give me away, Pole. I learned that when old man Scott used to send me out on frosty mornings to feed the cattle.” “Well, I won’t say nothin’,” Pole promised. “Ef money was at stake, it ’ud be different, but they say all’s fair whar war an’ women is concerned. Besides, the sharper a man is the better he’ll provide fer the wife he gits, an’ a man ought to be allowed to profit by his own experience. You go ahead; ef you root a red ear out o’ that pile, old hog, I’ll count you in.” Pole rose and went round the other side of the stack. There was a soft rustling sound as the husks were torn away and swept in rising billows behind the workers, and the steady thumping of the ears as they fell inside the barn. There was a lull in the merriment and general rustle, and Floyd heard Hattie Mayhew’s clear voice say: “I know why Cynthia is so quiet. It’s because there wasn’t somebody here to open with prayer.” Floyd was watching Cynthia’s face, and he saw it cloud over for a moment. She made some forced reply which he could not hear. It was Kitty Welborn’s voice that came to him on her merry laugh.