Rhoda Jane had set the ball in motion and for several weeks similar festivities were much in vogue among the young people of Pleasant Plains. There were other rag carpet bees, some quilting, berrying and nutting parties, boatings on the river, "buggy rides," and rides on horseback.

Then as the days grew short and the evenings long, a singing school was started. It met once a week at Damaris Drybread's schoolroom, was largely attended by the youth of both sexes, quite as much for the sport to be got out of it as for the improvement of their vocal powers.

Each carried thither a note book and a tallow candle, and at the end of the term paid his or her proportion of the salary of the teacher—one Timothy Buzzard, from a neighboring town.

Not the fittest name in the world for a singing teacher, people said; but then he couldn't help that, and soon proved himself competent for what he had undertaken; for imparting instruction at least;—as to keeping order among his pupils, some of whom were years older than himself—that he found was quite another thing. Of course there was often a good deal of misbehavior on the part of silly, giggling girls and tittering lads which tried his patience, occasionally even beyond endurance.

Mildred, Claudina and their friend Lucilla Grange were not of these; but invariably conducted themselves in a ladylike manner which won the admiration and gratitude of the sometimes sorely tried teacher, and gave him a powerful motive to self-control, in the natural desire to win their respect and esteem.

These three girls were the belles of the town; Timothy was an unmarried man, and when he seemed to pay court in a manner, to one or another of them, several of the young men were inclined to grow wrathy over it, and to feel that their rights were invaded.

Will Chetwood, Yorke Mocker, and Wallace Ormsby had become frequent visitors at Mr. Keith's; though, perhaps not more so in the case of the latter two, than at the homes of Mildred's two intimate girl friends; the six formed a coterie of their own and were generally seen together at the merry-makings; pairing off now in one way now in another.

Gotobed Lightcap would now and then pluck up courage to step in upon Mildred of an evening, and was invariably treated politely and kindly, though not in a way to give undue encouragement.

He had an instinctive understanding of that, attributed it in a great measure, to his own awkward, ungainly ways, and looked with envy upon those whose better education and more polished manners made them more acceptable companions.

Nicholas Ransquattle was not one of that number, yet esteemed himself such, and annoyed our heroine not a little by his unwelcome attentions.

They were declined whenever it could be done without positive rudeness, but vanity and self-conceit are often very blind.

Nicholas was quite a reader for a man of his station and limited opportunities; his family were proud of his attainments; he even more so; he was given to displaying them on all possible occasions; often wasting a great deal of breath in the charitable effort to enlighten the ignorance of his whilom associates.

He would call at Mr. Keith's early in the evening, and if occasion offered, talk to Mildred by the hour of his "abstruse studies" and the lighter literature with which he found it necessary to "unbend his mind from them," till she voted him an intolerable bore, and he became the laughing stock of her younger brothers and sisters, who found his clumsy, lumbering movements, self-conceit, and egotistical discourse so mirth-provoking that they learned to be on the lookout for him and to find excuses for remaining in the room while he staid; in which last endeavor they received every encouragement from Mildred.

Meanwhile so blinded by egotism was the man, that he supposed himself an object of great admiration to them, and had little, if any doubt, that the whole family were ready to receive him with open arms whenever he should make formal proposals for Mildred's hand.

He was a shoemaker by trade; had a little shop in the principal business street of the town, just opposite the store of Chetwood and Mocker,—Claudina's brother and cousin.

Mr. Keith had opened an office next door to them and Wallace Ormsby was diligently studying law with him.

Nicholas with a soul above his last, sometimes envied Wallace the prospective distinction of being a member of one of the learned professions, and while busied with his waxed ends and awl, considered the propriety of offering himself to Mr. Keith as a student and son-in-law both in one.

He finally decided that the proposal to Mildred should be made first, the other to follow immediately upon her joyful acceptance.

Winter had come in earnest; the ground had frozen hard and a heavy fall of snow upon this good foundation had made excellent sleighing; the young folk were jubilant over it, and more than one plan for its enjoyment had been set afloat.

"Mornin', Nick, see here, I want you to make me a pair o' new boots; put your very best work on to 'em," said Gotobed Lightcap, entering Ransquattle's shop after a moment's vigorous kicking and stamping of the snow from his feet upon the doorstep.

"All right, Gote. Sit down and off with your boot," returned Nicholas, putting down his last and taking up his measures.

"Let me have 'em as soon as you can," said Gotobed. "And be sure to make 'em a neat fit," he added, laughing, "else they'll, maybe be throwed back on your hands."

"They'll give satisfaction, you may depend," returned Ransquattle, straightening himself and throwing his head back on his shoulders in his accustomed fashion; "whatever I undertake is always done in the best style."

"Eh! I hadn't noticed that," said Gotobed, innocently. "You're goin' to the sleighin' to-morrow night, I s'pose?"

"Yes; and I calculate to take Mildred Keith."

"You do!" Lightcap ejaculated in tones of mingled anger and inquiry, his brows knitting wrathfully, a hot flush dyeing his swarthy cheek. "Have you asked her? got her consent?"

"Her? what her? may I ask?" queried Yorke Mocker, coming in as Gotobed's question was propounded, Wallace Ormsby close at his heels.

"No, I haven't asked her yet, but I shall in the course of the day; and now I warn you fellows that she's my choice and you may each pick out some other girl to take to the sleighing."

"Indeed! and may I ask how you came by the right to the first pick?"

"I've as much right to Mildred Keith as anybody else, Mr. Mocker; more, I should say; for I'm going to marry her."

There was a simultaneous explosion of astonishment and indignation at his presumption, from Mocker and Ormsby, while Lightcap, thinking no one would dare speak with such confident boasting who had not received great encouragement, turned pale, then flushed again as he picked up and drew on the boot he had just taken off.

"I admire the modesty of the man," remarked Ormsby with cutting sarcasm. "I presume you will find the young lady ready to drop into your arms at the first hint of your intentions."

"Of course, since it must be evident to her that she couldn't possibly do any better," sneered Yorke. "Pray, when did you learn that you were such a favorite?"

"I flatter myself that I do not lack discernment," returned Ransquattle, with unmoved self-complaisance, as he entered his measurements in his book, then used his coat-tail as a pen-wiper. "Anything I can do for you this morning, gentlemen?"

"No," growled Ormsby, "but there's something I can do for you; namely, save you the trouble of asking Miss Keith to go with you to-morrow night by informing you that she has already consented to allow me to be her escort."

"Is that so?" exclaimed Ransquattle, reddening with anger and disappointment. "Well, I must say I think it's very unfair; the way you fellows always get ahead of the rest of us."

"So do I," said Gotobed, leaving the shop and walking away in moody discontent; too much chagrined at learning that he had no chance, to enjoy the discomfiture of Nicholas.

"There has been no unfair dealing about it," retorted Ormsby, shortly, as he and Mocker followed Gotobed into the street; in their anger and excitement quite forgetting the errand that had brought them to Ransquattle's shop, viz., to borrow his horse and sleigh for the proposed expedition, in case he were not going to make use of them himself.

They crossed the street, joined Will Chetwood in the store, and roused his ire also by a recital of what had just occurred.

Ransquattle was angry too. "No unfair dealing about it, eh!" he muttered, looking after them. "Well, I say there has been; they've managed to keep other fellows at a distance from the girl without any regard to her wishes. But I'll soon put a stop to that game, my lads. See if I don't."

He took a letter from his pocket as he spoke, unfolded it, handling it tenderly, and glanced over the contents with a smile of self-congratulation.

"Ah, ha! we'll see if she'll be able to resist this!" he said, half aloud, as he refolded and returned it to its place in the breast-pocket of his coat.

A sleigh was at that moment standing at the front door of the yellow house on the corner and into it Mr. Keith was assisting his wife and aunt. Then followed the babe and the three next in age. They were going to the country, to spend the day with their Lansdale acquaintances, the Wards.

Mildred, Rupert, Zillah and Ada stood in the doorway to see them off.

"You won't be back to tea?" Mildred said inquiringly.

"No; but by bedtime," her father answered as he turned the horses' heads. "Now go in, all of you, out of the cold before you catch the ague."

"What did Claudina say?" asked Mildred, addressing Rupert as they obeyed the order.

"Yes, of course; isn't she always glad of a chance to come here?"

"That's good. How soon?"

"In about half an hour, I believe she said. So you'd better hear Ada's lessons and have them out of the way."

It was some weeks now since Ada's heart had been rejoiced by a final deliverance from Miss Drybread's control and a return to the instruction of her sister. Mr. Lord still kept up his class and Mildred's zeal for study had not abated, but the minister had a funeral to attend at a distant point that afternoon; so there would be no recitations to interfere with the pleasure of a day with Claudina. Celestia Ann still kept her position in the family, and though only ten o'clock, the house was in order, and dinner and tea would require no supervision by the eldest daughter of the house.

Claudina brought her sewing, and the two passed an uneventful, but pleasant day together, chatting over their work or reading aloud in turn; for Claudina was nearly as great a lover of books as was Mildred.

Their talk was not largely of their neighbors, but some jests passed between them at Ransquattle's expense. They were quite severe in their criticisms, as young things are too apt to be; but if the ears of the victim burned it was not enough to prevent the act of folly he had in contemplation.

Tea was over, Miss Hunsinger had removed the dishes to the kitchen; Mildred spread a bright colored cover over the table, placed the candles on it, and she and Claudina settled themselves to their sewing again; Zillah and Ada were the only other occupants of the room, Rupert having gone out.

Presently there came a knock at the outer door.

"I'll go," said Ada, running to open it.

A man, Nicholas Ransquattle, stood on the threshold. Stepping past the child without speaking, he made directly for Mildred, and silently extended his right hand, between the thumb and forefinger of which he held a letter.

In a sort of maze the girl took it, and with one of his profound obeisances, of one of which Cyril had remarked, "I thought he was going to squattle on the stove when he put his head down so low," he withdrew without having spoken a word.

They could hear the crackling of the snow under his heavy tread as he walked away.

"O Milly, what is it? what is it? what did he bring it for? had he been to the post-office?" the little girls were asking with eager curiosity.

Mildred turned to Claudina. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment, then burst into a simultaneous hearty laugh.

"Did ever you see such a comical performance?"

"Never! It's addressed to you of course?"

"Yes."

Seizing a candle, laughing and blushing, "Come, help me to read it," Mildred said. "We'll go up stairs where we won't be disturbed."

"Mayn't we go too? mayn't we know what your letter's about?" pleaded the little girls as the older ones were hurrying away.

"No, no! tisn't the sort for children like you to know about," laughed the sister. "Be good and stay here. We won't be gone long; and some day, perhaps, I'll tell you what it says."

They hurried through the kitchen where Miss Hunsinger was vigorously setting things to rights, up the crooked stairway and on into Aunt Wealthy's room, fastened the door and proceeded to examine the missive.

It was an offer to Miss Mildred Keith, of the heart, hand and fortune of the writer, Nicholas Ransquattle, who denominated himself her devoted worshiper and slave, and addressed her as an angel and the loveliest and sweetest of created beings. The girls giggled over it at first, but at length Mildred threw it down in supreme disgust.

"Such stuff and nonsense! it's perfectly sickening! I'm anything but an angel; especially when I lose my temper. And I believe I'm losing it now; for I feel insulted by an offer from such a conceited booby!"

"Somebody's coming!" exclaimed Claudina.

"Yes; Rupert. I know his step. Well, Ru, what is it?" as the boy rapped lightly on the door.

"Why before you answer that letter and accept the fellow, let me tell you something."

Mildred threw open the door.

"Who told you I had one?"

"The children told me about old Nick bringing you a letter," he answered laughing, but looking angry too, "and it's easy enough to guess the subject; particularly since I heard a bit of news over yonder at the smithy. Gote Lightcap says he heard him—old Nick—boasting this morning, before several young men, that he was going to marry Mildred Keith."

For a minute or more Mildred did not speak; she had probably never felt so angry in all her life.

"The conceited puppy!" she cried at last, "wouldn't I like to take some of it out of him!"

"Good for you!" cried Rupert clapping his hands. "I knew you'd be mad. And wouldn't I like to horsewhip him for his impudence?"

"But it isn't right," said Mildred, already cooling down a little and ashamed of her outburst. "You couldn't thrash him, Ru, but instead you shall, if you will, have the pleasure of carrying him my answer."

"Tell me what it is first."

Mildred took the letter and wrote, in pencil, beneath the signature, "The above offer is positively declined; all future visits on the part of the writer also," and signed her name. "There, return it," she said, "with the information that it is my final reply."