"There's my hand, Sally; will you take it, and me with it?"

Her hand slowly made its way into his broad, hard palm. Once the
surrender expressed, her confusion vanished; she lifted her head for his
kiss, then leaned it on his shoulder and whispered,--

"Oh, Mark, I've loved you for ever and ever so long a time!"

"Why, Sally, deary," said he, "that's my case, too; and I seemed to feel
it in my bones that we was to be a pair; only, you know, I had to get a
foothold first. I couldn't come to you with empty hands--though, faith!
there's not much to speak of in 'em!"

"Never mind that, Mark,--I'm _so_ glad you want me!"

And indeed she was; why should she not, therefore, say so?

"There's no need o' broken sixpences, or true-lovers' knots, I guess,"
said Mark, giving her another kiss. "I'm a plain-spoken fellow, and when
I say I want you for my wife, Sally, I mean it. But we mustn't be
settin' here, with the row unhusked; that'll never do. See if I don't
make the ears spin! And I guess you can help me a little now, can't
you?"

With a jolly laugh, Mark picked up the corn-cutter and swung it above
the next shock. In another instant it would have fallen, but a loud
shriek burst out from the bundled stalks, and Joe Fairthorn crept forth
on his hands and knees.

The lovers stood petrified. "Why, you young devil!" exclaimed Mark,