g the slightest anxiety in her behalf. If he could ever get the
"heft" of the "doggoned" cleaning out of the way so that Patty's mind
could be free to entertain his proposition; could ever secure one
precious moment of silence when she was not slatting and banging,
pushing and pulling things about, her head and ears out of sight under a
shelf, and an irritating air of absorption about her whole demeanor;
if that moment of silence could ever, under Providence, be simultaneous
with the absence of customers in the front shop, Cephas intended to
offer himself to Patience Baxter that very morning.

Once, during a temporary lull in the rear, he started to meet his fate
when Rodman Boynton followed him into the back room, and the boy was at
once set to work by Patty, who was the most consummate slave-driver
in the State of Maine. After half an hour there was another Heavensent
chance, when Rodman went up to Uncle Bart's shop with a message for
Waitstill, but, just then, in came Bill Morrill, a boy of twelve, with a
request for a gallon of molasses; and would Cephas lend him a stone jug
over Sunday, for his mother had hers soakin' out in soap-suds 'cause 't
wa'n't smellin' jest right. Bill's message given, he hurried up the road
on another errand, promising to call for the molasses later.

Cephas put the gallon measure under the spigot of the molasses hogshead
and turned on the tap. The task was going to be a long one and he grew
impatient, for the stream was only a slender trickle, scarcely more than
the slow dripping of drops, so the molasses must be very never low, and
with his mind full of weightier affairs he must make a note to tell the
Deacon to broach a new hogshead. Cephas feared that he could never make
out a full gallon, in which case Mrs. Morrill would be vexed, for she
kept mill boarders and baked quantities of brown bread and gingerbread
and molasses cookies for over Sunday. He did wish trade would languish
altogether on this particular morning. The minutes dragged by and again
there was perfect quiet in the stock-room. As the door opened, Cephas,
taking his last chance, went forward to meet Patty, who was turning down
the skirt of her dress, taking the cloth off her head, smoothing her
hair, and tying on a clean white ruffed apron, in which she looked as
pretty as a pink.

"Patty!" stammered Cephas, seizing his golden opportunity, "Patty, keep
your mind on me for a minute. I've put a new coat o' paint on the ell