nt me I'm not
going to force my attentions on her."

Well, we talked it over a bit, and in the end I agreed to sound Prissy,
and find out what she really thought about it. I didn't think it would
be hard to do; and it wasn't. I went over the very next day because
I saw Emmeline driving off to the store. I found Prissy alone, sewing
carpet rags. Emmeline kept her constantly at that--because Prissy hated
it I suppose. Prissy was crying when I went in, and in a few minutes I
had the whole story.

Prissy wanted to get married--and she wanted to get married to
Stephen--and Emmeline wouldn't let her.

"Prissy Strong," I said in exasperation, "you haven't the spirit of a
mouse! Why on earth did you write him such a letter?"

"Why, Emmeline made me," said Prissy, as if there couldn't be any appeal
from that; and I knew there couldn't--for Prissy. I also knew that if
Stephen wanted to see Prissy again Emmeline must know nothing of it, and
I told him so when he came down the next evening--to borrow a hoe, he
said. It was a long way to come for a hoe.

"Then what am I to do?" he said. "It wouldn't be any use to write, for
it would likely fall into Emmeline's hands. She won't let Prissy go
anywhere alone after this, and how am I to know when the old cat is
away?"

"Please don't insult cats," I said. "I'll tell you what we'll do. You
can see the ventilator on our barn from your place, can't you? You'd be
able to make out a flag or something tied to it, wouldn't you, through
that spy-glass of yours?"

Stephen thought he could.

"Well, you take a squint at it every now and then," I said. "Just as
soon as Emmeline leaves Prissy alone I'll hoist the signal."

The chance didn't come for a whole fortnight. Then, one evening, I saw
Emmeline striding over the field below our house. As soon as she was out
of sight I ran through the birch grove to Prissy.

"Yes, Em'line's gone to sit up with Jane Lawson to-night," said Prissy,
all fluttered and trembling.

"Then you put on your muslin dress and fix your hair," I said. "I'm
going home to get Thomas to tie something to that ventilator."

But do you think Thomas would do it? Not he. He said he owed something
to his position as elder in the church. In the end I had to do it
myself, though I don't like climbing ladders. I tied Thomas' long red
woollen scarf to the ventilator, and prayed that Stephen would see it.
He did, for in less than an hour he drove down our lane and put his
h