Some very strange thoughts coursed through the girl's mind. Now,
suppose it was Rube seated up there on the heads of an idolizing
populace, and it became incumbent upon her to fulfill that promise so
rashly and foolishly given, could she do it? No! No! She would rather
live a thousand years and scratch an old maid's head every hour in all
those years, than marry Rube Rutland!

It made her sick to think about it; every nerve in her body recoiled;
every good instinct within her lifted up a dissentient voice.

"Can't you see who it is?" She inquired hoarsely of her nearest
neighbor, a much be-banged girl, who peered above the crowd from the
top of a dry-goods box, with the cute expression of a fluffy-faced
puppy, "Can't you see?"

"Not distinctly yet, but I think it is that young stranger, Rube
Rutland's friend; I'm pretty sure it is."

"Thank God!" muttered Mell. She was ambitious, but she was not yet the
hardened thing that ambition makes.

"My goodness!" suddenly exclaimed the girl on the box. "It isn't that
strange young man! It is Rube Rutland! I can see him distinctly now.
Oh, how glad I am! It is Rube Rutland, boys." "Rutland forever!"
shouted back the boys.

In all that big crowd there was but one heart not glad. Rube was in
the house of his friends, the other a stranger. County pride, State
pride, local prejudice, all sided with Rube. Jerome was an alien. He
had come there to beat "our boys," and one of our boys had beaten him.
Huzza! Huzza! Shout the victory!

They did shout it with a noise whose loudness was enough to bring down
the roof of heaven. Never had there been such a victory at a Grange
picnic before.

Deafened by the noise Mell slunk back into the wood. All color forsook
her face once more. She had played for high stakes, this ambitious
girl; she had won her game, and in the winning cursed her own folly
and realized with a pang of unspeakable bitterness, that a victory for
which one pays too dear a price is the worst kind of defeat.

Released from the well-meant persecutions of his many admirers, Rube
asked for his coat and things, and a fan, and was next subjected to a
statement from the master of ceremonies.

"With this wreath," explained that individual, "you may crown the lady
of your choice, crown her queen of Love and Beauty, and it will be her
prerogative to award the other prizes won on this occasion. Who is the
fortunate lady?"

Every woman in hearing distance held her breath, e