more than all this." Uncle Ike, the postmaster at the Forks, did
it much better when he said to "Preachin' Bill," the night of the
"Doin's" at the Cove School, "Ba thundas! That gal o' Jim Lane's
jest plumb fills th' whole house. WHAT! An' when she comes a
ridin' up t' th' office on that brown pony o' hern, I'll be dad
burned if she don't pretty nigh fill th' whole out doors, ba
thundas! What!" And the little shrivelled up old hillsman, who
keeps the ferry, removed his cob pipe long enough to reply, with
all the emphasis possible to his squeaky voice, "She sure do, Ike.
She sure do. I've often thought hit didn't look jest fair fer God
'lmighty t' make sech a woman 'thout ary man t' match her. Makes
me feel plumb 'shamed o' myself t' stand 'round in th' same county
with her. Hit sure do, Ike."

Greeting the girl the young man opened the gate for her to pass.

"I've been a lookin' for you over," said Sammy, a teasing light in
her eyes. "Didn't you know that Mandy was stoppin' with me? She's
been a dyin' to see you."

"I'm mighty sorry," he replied, fastening the gate and coming to
the pony's side. "Why didn't you tell me before? I reckon she'll
get over it alright, though," he added with a smile, as he raised
his arms to assist the girl to dismount.

The teasing light vanished as the young woman placed her hands on
the powerful shoulders of the giant, and as she felt the play of
the swelling muscles that swung her to the ground so easily, her
face flushed with admiration. For the fraction of a minute she
stood facing him, her hands still on his arms, her lips parted as