“Oh, yes; Cynthia has us all beaten badly!” said that little blonde. “We wore our fingers to the bones fixing up his room. Cynthia didn’t lay her hand to it, and yet he never looks at anyone else while he is preaching, and as soon as the sermon is over he rushes for her. They say Mr. Porter thinks Mr. Hillhouse is watching him, and has quit going to sleep.” “That’s a fact,” said Fred Denslow as he aimed a naked ear of corn at the barn door and threw it. “The boys say Hillhouse will even let ’em cuss in his presence, just so they will listen to what he says about Miss Cynthia.” “That isn’t fair to Miss Cynthia,” Nelson Floyd observed suddenly. “I’m afraid you are making it too hot for her over on that side, so I’m going to invite her over here. You see, I have found the first red ear of corn, and it’s big enough to count double.” There was a general shout and clapping of hands as he held it up to view in the moonlight. He put it into the pocket of his coat as he rose and moved round toward Cynthia. Bending down to her, he said: “Come on; you’ve got to obey the rules of the game, you know.” She allowed him to draw her to her feet. “Now fer the fust act!” Pole Baker cried out. “I hain’t a-goin’ to have no bashful corn-shuckers. Ef you balk or kick over a trace, I’ll leave you out next time, shore.” “You didn’t make a thoroughly fair rule, Pole,” said Floyd. “The days of woman slavery are past. I shall not take advantage of the situation.” Everybody laughed as Floyd led her round to his place and raked up a pile of shucks for her to sit on. “Well, there ought to have been another rule,” laughed Fred Denslow, “an’ that to the effect that if the winning man, through sickness, lack of backbone or sudden death, is prevented from takin’ the prize, somebody else ought to have a chance. Here I’ve been workin’ like a cornfield nigger to win, and now see the feller heaven has smiled on throwin’ that sort of a flower away. Good gracious, what’s the world comin’ to?” “Well, I’ll have _mine_,” Pole Baker was heard to say, and he took his little wife in his arms and kissed her tenderly. CHAPTER VI Refreshments had been served, the last ear of corn was husked and thrown into the barn, and they had all risen to depart, when Hillhouse came down the path from the cottage. He was panting audibly, and had evidently been walking fast. He shook hands hurriedly with Pole and his wife, and then turned to Cynthia. “I’m just from your house,” he said, “and I promised your mother to come over after you. I was afraid I’d be late. The distance never seemed so long before.” “I’m afraid you _are_ too late,” said Floyd, with a cold smile. “I was lucky enough to find the first red ear of corn, and the reward was that I might take home anyone I asked. I assure you I’ll see that Miss Cynthia is well taken care of.” “Oh! I—I see.” The preacher seemed stunned by the disappointment. “I didn’t know; I thought——”