't!" laughed Rube, much appreciating the sly humor of
the question.

By seven o'clock the day's festivities were concluded; and then ensued
a melting of all hostile elements into a homogeneous mass, all
ravenous after iced-lemonade and home-made cake, and a heterogeneous
devouring of the same; after which, the crowd, well pleased, but
pretty well fagged out, turned their faces homeward, under a sun still
shining, but shorn of its hottest beams.

No one will gainsay the statement that our heroine has made great
social strides in one summer's day. In the morning a simple country
girl, poor in pocket, humble in rank, unknown in society, seated
beside Miss Josey in the little pony phaeton, full of fair hopes and
inspirations; in the evening the affianced wife of the best-born and
most eligible young man in the county; returning to the old farm-house
in grand style, leaning back on soft cushions, beside her future lord,
in a flashy open carriage drawn by a ravishing pair of high mettled
roans.

Ambitious, indeed, must be that girl not satisfied with this wonderful
result of one single operation in matrimonial stocks. And yet Mell is
not happy. She forgets to give heed to what Rube is saying; she
forgets almost to answer him back; so full of regret is she for her
own lost self. She had had a thousand longings to get out of her old
self, and out of her old life, and now, on the threshold of a new
existence, Mell finds herself with only one desire--just to get back
where she came from. If only she could--oh! if only she could, most
gladly would this lately crowned queen have relinquished the glories
of empire, the spoils of captive hearts, the trophies of social
triumphs, the high emprise of a brilliant future, only to be simple
Mell once more.

Ah, poor Mell! Not for sale now. Sold!

CHAPTER V.

PLAYERS ON A STAGE.

Now, then, here is Thursday. Jerome had said: "You will be on hand
without fail, Mell; and so will I, and so will something else."

"But that something else," moaned the hapless Mell, bowed down and
heart-stricken, "will never be on hand again in the meadow for me, nor
anywhere else."

Saddest of all, she had herself laid the axe to the root of her own
happiness; she had baited her own hook and caught a big fish; she had
provoked her own doom, and herself sealed it.

Rube was not to blame.

And Jerome--he had made out a good case. Had he loved her less he
would, perhaps, have acted differently.