r. Hammond grasped the lower end of the ladder with a grip that
brought the perspiration out upon his forehead, and the lady, with
suppressed screams and ejaculations of "Oh, good Lord!" and "Heavens and
earth! What shall I do?" reached the ground safe and more or less sound.
They left the ladder where it was, and tiptoed fearfully out to the
lane.

"Whew!" panted the exhausted swain, mopping his brow. "I'm clean
tuckered out. I ain't done so much work for ten years."

"Don't say a word, Caleb Hammond. If I ain't got my death of--of ammonia
or somethin', I miss my guess. I'm all wheezed up from settin' at that
open winder waitin' for you to come; and I thought you never WOULD
come."

As Caleb was helping the lady of his choice into the carryall he noticed
that she carried a small hand-bag.

"What you got that thing for?" he demanded.

"It's my reticule; there's a clean handkerchief and a few other things
in it. Mercy on us! You didn't suppose I'd go off to get married without
even a decent handkerchief, did you? I feel enough like a sneakin'
ragamuffin and housebreaker as 'tis. Why I ever was crazy enough
to--where have you put the horse?"

Mr. Hammond led her to where George Washington was tethered. The father
of his country was tired of standing alone in the damp, and he trotted
off briskly. The first mile of their journey was accomplished safely,
although the night was pitch-dark, and when they turned into the Bayport
Road, which for two-thirds of its length leads through thick soft pine
and scrub-oak woods, it was hard to distinguish even the horse's ears.
Miss Parker insisted that every curtain of the carryall--at the back and
both sides--should be closely buttoned down, as she was fearful of the
effects of the night air.

"Fresh air never hurts nobody," said Caleb. "There ain't nothin' so good
for a body as fresh air. I sleep with my window open wide winter and
summer."

"You DO? Well, I tell you right now, I don't. I should say not! I shut
every winder tight and I make Kenelm do the same thing. I don't run any
risks from drafts."

Mr. Hammond grunted, and was silent for some little time, only
brightening up when the lady, now in a measure recovered from her fright
and the anxiety of waiting, began to talk of the blessings that were to
come from their independent wedded life in a home of their own.

"We'll keep chickens," she said, "because I do like fresh eggs for
breakfast. Let's see; this is the wa