advance; and when she did she
dropped the tack hammer in her astonishment.

He dismounted, with pain, to pick it up, presented it, face wreathed in
a series of appealing smiles, then, managing to scale the side of his
horse again, settled himself as comfortably as possible for the
impending conflict.

But Alida Ascott, in her boyish riding breeches and deep-skirted coat,
merely nodded her thanks, took hold of the hammer firmly, and drove in
more tacks, paying no further attention to William Van Beuren Portlaw
and his heart-rending smiles.

It was very embarrassing; he sidled his horse around so that he might
catch a glimpse of her profile. The view he obtained was not
encouraging.

"Alida," he ventured plaintively.

"Mr. Portlaw!"--so suddenly swinging on him that he lost all countenance
and blurted out:

"I--I only want to make amends and be friends."

"I expect you to make amends," she said in a significantly quiet voice,
which chilled him with the menace of damages unlimited. And even in his
perturbation he saw at once that it would never do to have a backwoods
jury look upon the fascinating countenance of this young plaintiff.

"Alida," he said sorrowfully, "I am beginning to see things in a clearer
light."

"I think that light will grow very much clearer, Mr. Portlaw."

He repressed a shudder, and tried to look reproachful, but she seemed to
be very hard-hearted, for she turned once more to her hammering.

"Alida!"

"What?"--continuing to drive tacks.

"After all these years of friendship it--it is perfectly painful for me
to contemplate a possible lawsuit--"

"It will be more painful to contemplate an actual one, Mr. Portlaw."

"Alida, do you really mean that you--my neighbour and friend--are going
to press this unnatural complaint?"

"I certainly do."

Portlaw shook his head violently, and passed his gloved hand over his
eyes as though to rouse himself from a distressing dream; all of which
expressive pantomime was lost on Mrs. Ascott, who was busy driving
tacks.

"I simply cannot credit my senses," he said mournfully.

"You ought to try; it will be still more difficult later," she observed,
backing her horse so that she might inspect her handiwork from the
proper point of view.

Portlaw looked askance at the sign. It warned people not to shoot, fish,
cut trees, dam streams, or build fires under penalty of the law; and was
signed, "Alida Ascott."

"You didn't have any up before, did