ing great oven
which was to engulf the armies of pies and cakes which were in due course
of preparation on the ample tables.

Of course you want to know who Diana Pitkin was. It was a general fact
about this young lady that anybody who gave one look at her, whether at
church or at home, always inquired at once with effusion, "Who is she?"--
particularly if the inquirer was one of the masculine gender.

This was to be accounted for by the fact that Miss Diana presented to the
first view of the gazer a dazzling combination of pink and white, a
flashing pair of black eyes, a ripple of dimples about the prettiest
little rosy mouth in the world, and a frequent somewhat saucy laugh,
which showed a set of teeth like pearls. Add to this a quick wit, a
generous though spicy temper, and a nimble tongue, and you will not
wonder that Miss Diana was a marked character at Mapleton, and that the
inquiry who she was was one of the most interesting facts of statistical
information.

Well, she was Deacon Pitkin's second cousin, and of course just in that
convenient relationship to the Pitkin boys which has all the advantages
of cousinship and none of the disadvantages as may be plain to an
ordinary observer. For if Miss Diana wished to ride or row or dance with
any of the Pitkin boys, why shouldn't she? Were they not her cousins? But
if any of these aforenamed young fellows advanced on the strength of
these intimacies a presumptive claim to nearer relationship, why, then
Diana was astonished--of course she had regarded them as her cousins! and
she was sure she couldn't think what they could be dreaming of--"A cousin
is just like a brother, you know."

This was just what James Pitkin did not believe in, and now as he is
walking over hill and dale from Cambridge College to his father's house
he is gathering up a decided resolution to tell Diana that he is not and
will not be to her as a brother--that she must be to him all or nothing.
James is the brightest, the tallest, and, the Mapleton girls said, the
handsomest of the Pitkin boys. He is a strong-hearted, generous, resolute
fellow as ever undertook to walk thirty-five miles home to eat his
Thanksgiving dinner.

[Illustration: Diana.]

We are not sure that Miss Diana is not thinking of him quite as much as
he of her, as she stands there with the long kitchen shovel in one hand,
and one plump white arm thrust into the oven, and her little head cocked
on one side, her brows bent, an