Year: 1874

gar was waited toward them, and the
top of beaver hat became visible at
the extreme end of the garden walk.


"Go away-oh, do go away"


"I'll go when you've answered. 1t
is little enough to ask. just say
yes or no. I tell you / love you; you
know l do. Pm a poor man, but l
can make my wife comfortable, and
Pm certain l can make her happy.
Lottie, I was sure you cared for me
this morning; if you say you don't, 1
never shall be happy again. Say yes
or no."


What Lottie meant to answer is
hard to tell. Mr.. Davenport came
into view suddenly, and her mothers
voice sounded from the kitchen.


eIottie! Lottic! where are those
peas?"


She tore her hands away, and
sprang down the steps, saying, hasti-
ly and contradictorily:


"No, no; certainly. Yes, in min
ute."


Without word more Harry pick.
up the peas for her-the work of full
five ninutes-set the basket on the
porch, and walked away. Ten min
utes later the peas were finally shell
ed and put on the kitchen table, but
Lottie was nowhere to be found. She
was locked in her chamber. The
seal ring had been tossed indignant
ly on the floor, and it's new owner
was crying as if her heart would
break.


Half that long summer afternoon
she staid shut up, too miserable to
face any comment, too hopeless to
see any way out Of the trouble she
had brought upon herself; for if she
had said "no" to Mr.. Davenport and
eyes" to Harry Willard, she would
have been happy girl. What was
there to do but face the consequences!
She might unsay the yes, but never
no; and if she were to write to Har
ry-if she were to tell him she never
meant it! There was still little of his
holiday left-if, indeed he did not let
his anger hurry him.


The sunshine of mid-aftenoon was
slanting in on the faded carpet and
yellow washstand as Lottie hastily
bathed her eyes and pulled a writing
desk toward her. It slanted more
and more from the west as she sat
considering, perplexedly biting the
end Of her pen, writing and re-writ-
ing and tossing aside many cream
tinted sheets of paper, until the table
was covered with beginnings, and
only one sheet was left in the box.
This she finally took up despairingly,
and wrote the date and commence
ment:


"MY DEAR HARRY:-I don't know
how to write this to you, and I am
very much ashamed to take back
what I said, but l never meant to say
it. had to, because Mr.. Davenport
was coming, and that was his ring l
had on my finger, and he had just
asked me to marry him, and l had
said yes, because, you know, he IS
rich, and l thought it would be nice
to be a lady. 1 don't know what
made me say yes, for l don't love
him and l do love you. I am so sor-
ry said what l did. You'll forgive
me, won't you, now you know that /
really don't care for anybody but
you? Please! LoTTIE."


AS she sat looking at this rather
crude production of hers difficulty
occurred to her. How could she send
it? Garry it to the post-otiice, and
let the postmistress, who had known
her from baby, discover that she
had written to Henry Willard? Never.
Drop it into the post-box? No; for
the handwriting would betray her,
and the whole town would hear of it.
Could she give it to Harry herself?
No, not that! Or give it to Susan to
give him? Worse yet. Thoroughly
perplexed and dislleartened, Lottie
fell prey to her own fears. If Harry
had the letter, he might be disguised
by her forwardness, or else too much
displeased to forgive her at all. Per
haps it was unladylike to think of
sending the letter, and yet, if she did
not send it, Harry would 60 away.


A miserable half hour of indecis-
ion followed, at the end of which she
tossed all the scattered sheets in 4
heap into her writing-desk, locked it,
and then cried with renewed abandon.
A series of sharp raps on the door
and voice by no means gentle reused
here.


"Lottie! l say Lottie! For good
ness sake, what are you about? Here
it's after four, and no cake for supper
and Mr.. Willard going on the six
train! Come right down stairs, and
don't let us have any more dawdling!
Come! there is no time to spare"


How Lottie ever got into the kitch-
en-, and in what manner she contrived
to begin her cake making, she never
knew. Harry was gong at six! She
was such child that his going away
seemed to her to end everything
finally between them. She should
never see him again. Over and over
she said to herself, as she mechani-
cally weighed the flour and sugar for
sponge cake, beat her eggs, and COM
menced to mix the ingredients. A
great many tears fell into the cake,
and they so blinded her that she did
not see her mother at her elbow, as
she was dropping it into the pans,
until a sharp voice startled her:


''Lottie, what has come over you?
You haven't put a bit of paper in the
bottom of those pans! Itwould have
burned for certain; and here it is al
most 5. Hurry! go and get some
paper, quick"


Lottie, still mechanically, searched
the draws of the dresser in vain; and
spurred to action by the sharp voice
and by the sound of the clock strik-
ing 5, she rushed up stairs to her own
room, tore off two half sheets of pa
per from the pile she had thrust into
her desk, ran down again, and had
the cake into the oven in such a mir
aculously short time that even her
mother was astonished.


"There, now, pick over these ber-