ere, and Steve was no exception.

A short walk brought him to the house of Nannie's cousin, and there he
found the lady for whom he was seeking.

"Are you going home now, Nannie?" he asked in his usual gentle way.

Nannie looked into his face and saw something new, and it roused her
opposition.

"No," she said.

Now, Steve had read Ian Maclaren's story of the wretched beadle who,
newly inflated, but not profited, by his lonely wedding journey to a
Presbyterian synod, resolved to experiment in the exercise of
authority upon his bride. But, alas! he had read to his destruction.
He remembered with what majesty the beadle said:

"Rebecca, close the door."

But he did not remember what Rebecca did, and hence had no better
sense than to say this evening, with a quiet firmness new to his
domestic use:

"I should like to have you go home now, Nannie. There are matters that
need your attention."

Nannie rose at once and walked home without a word, Steve accompanying
her. By the time they got there a young moon was sinking in the west,
and with the curiosity common to extreme youth it strained its eyes to
see through the trees what Nannie would do.

"The radishes and lettuce need weeding," said Steve when they reached
the garden, and Nannie walked directly to these beds and went to work,
while Steve occupied himself at a little distance.

Before long old Hayseed came up and leaned upon the fence.

"Well, neighbor," he said, "what are ye doin' by moonlight?"

Nannie stood erect and looked at him. Her black eyes fairly
scintillated and her lips were compressed. All around her were
scattered the uprooted weeds, and the lettuce and radishes lay with
them.

"What crop air ye raisin' now?" he asked.

"I'm raising Cain!" she said.

VIII

Spite is a whip that cracks at both ends, and the rear lash inflicts
by far the sharper sting. Nannie felt its full force when she arose
early the next morning after the sowing of her peculiar crop, and
looking from the window saw the sad traces of her work lying upon the
ground. The evening before she had walked into the house tingling with
ignoble triumph, but this morning she felt nothing but shame as she
speculated on Steve's attitude. Possibly--this flashed across her
mind--Steve had not seen her work, and she might plant those wretched
things again before he wakened. But this poor solace was denied her,
for on peeping into Steve's roo