tions at all times, so that the poor girl had
scarce a half-hour to herself. She grew thin and pale and unhappy
enough; and one day George Adams, stepping in unexpectedly, found her
with her apron to her eyes, crying most bitterly. It took some
persuasion, and some more daring caresses than he had yet ventured on,
to get Dely's secret trouble to light. I am inclined to think George
kissed her at least once before she would tell him what she was crying
about; but Dely naturally came to the conclusion, that, if he loved her
enough to kiss her, and she loved him enough to like it, she might as
well share her troubles, and the consequence was, George asked her then
and there to share his. Not that either of them thought there would be
troubles under that copartnership, for the day was sufficient to them;
and it did not daunt Dely in the least to know that George's only
possessions were a heifer calf, a suit of clothes, and twenty dollars.

About a month after this eventful day, Dely went into Hanerford on an
errand, she said; so did George Adams. They stepped into the minister's
together and were married; so Dely's errand was done, and she rode out
on the front seat of George's empty wagon, stopping at the bakery to
tell her mother and get her trunk: having wisely chosen a day for her
errand when her step-father had gone away after a load of flour down to
Hanerford wharves. Mrs. Kenyon went at once into wild hysterics, and
called Dely a jade-hopper, and an ungrateful child; but not
understanding the opprobrium of the one term, and not deserving the
other, the poor girl only cried a little, and helped George with her
trunk, which held all she could call her own in the world,--her clothes,
two or three cheap trinkets, and a few books. She kissed the cats all
round, hugged the dog, was glad her robin had died, and then said
good-bye to her mother, who refused to kiss her, and said George Adams
was a snake in the grass. This was too much for Dely; she wiped her
eyes, and clambered over the wagon-wheel, and took her place beside
George with a smile so much like crying that he began to whistle, and
never stopped for two miles. By that time they were in a piece of thick
pine woods, when, looking both before and behind to be certain no one
was coming, he put his arm round his wife and kissed her, which seemed
to have a consoling effect; and by the time they reached his mother's
little house, Dely was as bright as ever.

A little b